Come As You Are
by BKain390822
Summary: Story begins a few days prior to the events of NetFlix's the Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.
1. All American Girl

Author: Bastille Kain

Title: Come As You Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.

Pairings:

Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.

Feedback: Is always appreciated.

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. All American Girl: Melissa Etheridge

Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes.

Enjoy the Story,

Kain

Come as You Are

Chapter One: All American Girl

Trish took a sip of her coffee from the cardboard cup while she sat in the waiting room of New York-Presbyterian Hospital. So far she hadn't received any word concerning the young girl she had come in with a little more than an hour ago. She had given the police her statement, finding the tiny blonde in the hall outside her apartment, lying crumpled on the floor with what appeared to be a serious throat wound. It almost looked like some animal had tried to rip the girl's throat open but there wasn't any sort of blood splatter expected with that sort of wound.

"What the hell?"

Trish smiled at the voice of her best friend. "Hey," she said with a smile turning toward Jessica.

The brunette's scowl would have given a grown man pause. "Don't hey me," she warned her adopted sister and very nearly only friend as she entered the waiting room. "You send me a text saying you're in the hospital…"

"Sorry," Trish said with something close to contrition. "I've been sitting here filling out paperwork for someone I know absolutely nothing about." Jessica frowned at her and Trish exhaled. "I found a girl in the hall outside my apartment. Her throat had been slashed, or torn open by some animal, nobody's really told me anything since I arrived."

Jessica sat down next to Trish. "Somebody cut her throat and that didn't kill her?" Trish shrugged in response to the question. "So what you just volunteered to stick around? Be her guardian angel?"

"I don't know?" Trish replied. "I wouldn't want to wake up all alone in a hospital."

"At least tell me you're not picking up the tab on this?" Jessica asked after a moment of prolonged silence.

Trish gave her friend's question a mild snort before asking, "Do you really think I'm that altruistic?"

The glare Jessica directed at her best friend was about all the answer Trish needed, but the brunette said, "You took me in," reminding the blonde radio host of their connection.

"Girl wakes up, tells people who she is, what happened. They contact her parents, legal guardian. Whoever –"

"Patricia Walker?"

The soft, but unmistakably masculine voice drew a pair of eyes, one light one dark. "I'm Trish Walker," Trish answered as she stood.

Jessica following suit as she took in the doctor; average height with dark hair, three days worth of stubble and deep set brown eyes. Hindu American descent if she had to hazard a guess. He was wearing tan slacks with a soft aqua blue button shirt and comfortable looking sneakers. "How's the girl?" She asked.

Kaleb glanced at the brunette, she looked familiar but he couldn't place the where. Before he could inquire Trish said, "This is Jessica Jones. My sister," she added quickly before the doctor could raise any objections. She also made a point of ignoring the look Jessica cast in her direction. While technically Jessica had been officially adopted after the car accident that claimed Jessica's family, Trish had always considered the brunette her sister.

"Physically she appears to be fine. The wound in her neck is only a superficial laceration," Kaleb answered.

"But," Jessica supplied. She could practically see the word hanging in the air.

Kaleb took a breath, "There does appear to be a complication," he said. "Retrograde amnesia. Skills, language all appear to be intact. When she started waking up…" _Something that shouldn't have happened while being heavily sedated_ , the thought bubbled along the surface of his mind. "…I was the first person she saw and she started speaking, I believe Hindi. When I didn't respond she switched to Farsi and finally to Mandarin." It had been one of the oddest things he had ever seen and he had been attending Columbia University when the Avengers drove off an alien invasion. "One of the nurses is fluent in Mandarin and told her where she was and she started speaking English with something of a California valley girl accent."

"But she doesn't remember who she is?" Jessica asked. "No name, family, friends… Where she grew up?"

"It doesn't mean she's never going to regain her memories," Kaleb informed the pair. "They could come back in an hour, a day, a week –"

"Or never," Jessica said into the pause.

Kaleb nodded, "Or never," he agreed. "The only thing she can recall is an almost phobic fear of hospitals. She's positive that someone close to her, a cousin or sibling died in a hospital. The police left an officer on her door and CPS is going to be here in a few hours, but I was hoping a friendly face, somebody that might be willing to talk with her, would help keep her calm until CPS shows up?"

/ / /

Jessica watched with a slight scowl as Trish signed the forms Henry Jaspers, the CPS agent had printed out after Trish inquired what was going to become of the girl, a fate she would have lived if not for the blonde and her mother, the foster system and group homes. Couples that were looking to adopt wanted children, the younger the better. What they didn't want was to be dealing with someone else's rejects.

If Trish wasn't who she was none of this would be happening right now. As a teenager she starred in a television show, managed to keep most of her troubles out of the public eye. She had gotten a good education and was now the host of her very own Radio Show. Trish Talk. Jasper's younger sister had been a big fan of her show and even he admitted to listening to her talk show from time to time, normally when the sports shows weren't worth listening to and since he was a fan of not just the Mets and Knicks but the Jets as well, that happened with some regularity.

The only blemish, if anybody ever discovered it would be Trish's connection to her; an alcoholic PI with a few anger issues and some questionable life choices.

Jessica could have predicted, with near absolute certainty, the eventual outcome the moment they laid eyes on the pixie like blonde laying upon the hospital bed. Trish had a heart three times too big.

Jaspers was going over what Trish could expect over the next several months to a year or more all depending on how long their Jane Doe remained with her; a visit from Child Welfare Services, home and school inspection, several random visitations, mandatory counseling while Jane, as everyone had taken to calling the teenager, was residing with her. Fingerprints and DNA were going to be needed to aid in tracking down the girl's family, those would only help if the girl was in the system. A lab tech would be able to collect the DNA sample but they'd probably have to visit one of New York's precincts to run her finger prints. He also provided a list of independent facilities that could be used, which ever they found most convenient just as long as it was done within a week.

/ / /

Jane, she tested the name in her head for about the hundredth time and decided she still didn't care for it. The name was just so… Blah; plain and simple. No matter what else she has forgotten she wasn't plain or simple. Unfortunately she wasn't sure what she was; refined and sophisticated like an Illyana or Elizabeth or more regal like a Katherine or Alexandria, or was she more of a sultry Angelina or maybe a slutty Trixie or an enticing Desirae. Maybe something more whimsical; a Cat or a Buffy.

There was every possibility her real name wasn't even English. She appeared to be fluent in several languages. It was going to take time learn how many.

She felt eyes on her and shifted her position on the bed slightly, folding her feet under her and returned Jessica Jones suspicious dark eye stare with a level gaze. An aroma drifted to her. It was faint, but easily recognizable. Whiskey, and it was wafting up out of the brunette's coffee. "If you don't need me for anything, I'm going to go get changed," she said swinging her legs over the side of the bed and hopping down in one smooth motion. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to get out of the room… Out of the hospital. The anxiety medication the doctor gave her had worn off some time ago and while not in full on panic mode it was taking some effort to maintain her composure. Her first step in her grand scheme was to change her clothes, a task with no other purpose than to keep her busy for a few minutes, and changing was nothing more complicated than removing the hospital provided robe and too large paper-pants and slipping on a pair of ultra petite scrubs one of the nurses provided her; dark violet pants and a white top with a green and blue floral pattern.

"We're pretty much done here," Jaspers said as he handed Trish copies of the forms she's been filling out along with his business card. "If there are any problems or if you think of any questions, call this number." He removed several sheaves of paper and passed them over to Trish as well. "These are the numbers for several trauma counselors, support groups and a few psychiatrist. Sometimes, it helps to have a safe place to talk about the things that are bothering you."

Jane rolled her eyes at Jaspers. "Aside from being here, with no memories… Everything's rainbows and sprinkles," she informed the dark haired social worker before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jessica couldn't help but flash Trish an almost, I told you so, grin at the little blonde's comment. The girl had spunk and sass only a teenager could pull off. She was probably going to need it all things being equal.

The social worker exhaled slightly as he shifted his attention from the bathroom door to Trish. "Again, if there are any problems don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you," Trish said into the silence.

With a sharp, quick nod Jaspers snapped his briefcase close. "Have a good day Ms Walker," he said. With another nod he exited the room.

Jessica watched the door for a second before turning her attention back to Trish. In a hard whisper she demanded, "Are you insane? You can't just go adopting every stray puppy that stumbles over your stoop."

"I just couldn't –" Trish started in a soft voice before shooting a glance at the bathroom door. "You didn't see her Jess," she said a voice barely above a whisper.

/ / /

Jane heard the social worker leave despite the nearly silent quality of the man's tread, it didn't really surprise her anymore, not like when she first woke up. Then it had sounded like everyone was shouting and it took several desperate minutes to calm herself. Now she listened to Jessica and Trish's conversation as if she were in the room with them. They were keeping their voices pitched low, as if afraid of being overheard.

Maybe she should have told them she had super powers, well one set of super powers; listening to the nurses and doctors through a closed door as they discussed patients; their treatments and upcoming procedures. Being able to overhear the conversations between patients and their loved ones were a bit… Disconcerting, leaving her with a sort of slimy feeling; like a demented voyeur. She suspected her eyesight and olfactory senses were equally acute and far superior to ordinary people.

Taking a breath she centered herself, a bit of improvised meditation never hurt anyone and a calm place came to her easily; as if achieving a tranquil state was second nature to her. Again she considered the type of person she must have been, the training she must have received growing up.

Jessica was clearly the more cynical one of the pair. She suspected the brunette had gone through some extremely hard times during her life and probably possessed the psychological scars to prove it. Trish had gone through her own share of trauma but managed the after effects better, had a more stable coping mechanism.

Trish wanted to take her shopping; pick up a few changes of clothes, some shoes and a pair of sneakers and grab a bit to eat because no one deserved to eat hospital food. Maybe they could even decide on a name. She couldn't agree more with that. Nobody wanted to go through life as Jane Doe. The thought of shopping was nearly as comforting as meditation and even though she had no desire to take advantage of her benefactor she would love to eat something she didn't feel was prescribed by a doctor with some ulterior motive.

She balled her hospital clothes and exited the bathroom to a room that fell into silence the moment the door was cracked open. Stepping into the quite on bare feet she looked between the two older women. "You don't have to stop talking on my account," she told them.

"We weren't –" Trish started until Jane arched a rather pointed eyebrow at her and she sighed softly. "Jessica has some concerns," Trish said.

"What kind of best friend sister would she be if she didn't?" Jane said.

"Even I do," she admitted after a brief pause.

She flashed them a thin smile. "So don't I," she said in a small voice. "I know as much about myself as you do. Maybe less," she finished. "I don't…" She paused gathering her thoughts. "Someone tried to kill me, or made it look that way. Maybe they're trying to get to you or Jess considering how tight you two are and they're using me. I could be a part of it, faking the whole amnesia thing to gain your sympathy." Sitting on the bed Jane focused her attention inward wondering where those thoughts and ideas came from. She hadn't thought of herself as any sort of strategist but what she just said scared her, that she could even think of something like that.

Jessica shot Trish a significant look but before she can say anything Jane murmured questioningly, "What sort of person can even think of something like that?"

Trish moved to stand in front of the tiny blonde. Taking hold of her hands she squatted easily forcing the troubled teen to look her in the eyes. "None of this makes any sense," she said in her most serious voice. "But I promise we're going to figure it out."

The teen looked up, her lighter crystalline emerald eyes meeting darker jade hue orbs. They were open, full of concern for the young girl sitting in front of her. For her. Jane exhaled took a breath, no matter what she didn't want some overly emotion display. It might be the one thing she couldn't handle right now. "So, what do you have planned?"

"Well," Trish began having given her agenda very little thought over the last several hours. "I do need to go into work, put my show together go over a number of things with my crew."

"Cool," Jane enthused a bit of a sparkle in her eyes. "Do I get to watch?"

"If you wanted to," Trish started as she looked Jane over. "But I was sort of hoping I could talk Jess into doing me a favor and taking you to get some clothes?" She said with a hopeful pleading note in her voice.

"Trish…"

Jessica started but paused as Jane said, "Um – I'm not sure if you've noticed this, but I don't think Ms. Broody likes me very much?"

"Ms. Broody," Jessica frowns around the word.

"Jess doesn't not like you," Trish said. "She doesn't know you and she doesn't really trust what she doesn't know," she explained.

"I'm not that bad," Jessica complained.

/ / /

Jessica glared at the back of the tiny blonde's head while taking a swig of her special blend coffee. She was wearing the pants the hospital provided her but discarded the floral print scrub shirt and was wearing a teal blouse with wide cuff sleeves. The cheap sneakers she purchased were now in one of the bags she carried; she had taken them off after wearing them for a few blocks and she now padded down the sidewalk on bare feet claiming it felt more natural.

The girl was a dynamo with no off switch. In little more than two hours of shopping they visited five different stores and purchased a decent number of clothes but nowhere near what she had expected. A few pairs of jeans; boot cut, low riding, hip huggers – Not that Jane actually had hips to hug. A couple pairs of cargo pants as well as a few lounge pants and few shapeless night clothes along with a dozen blouses in various styles, five tank tops and an equal number of plain tee-shirts in several different colors, some functional undergarments and sports bras, a pair of cheap sneakers and a pair of platform sandals.

With the number of stores and the amount of time they had spent Jessica would have thought there should have been a bigger haul and to have spent four, maybe even five times as much but Jane certainly knew how to shop on a budget and frugal to boot. She bypassed the high end designer stuff and hit up the bargain bins except for her strappy platform sandals. Those cost as much as everything else combined… Maybe more.

Probably more.

According to Jane it was encoded in every woman, possibly on a genetic level, like branded into their DNA itself. The teenager had sounded almost scandalized that Jessica seemed to lack that same instinctual knowledge.

"Do you mind that I call you Jess?" She asked as Jessica took another draw from her coffee.

"Why the fuck would I care?" Jessica answered. For someone with amnesia the girl could definitely talk and on nearly any subject. She had an opinion about everything. It had been almost non-stop since they left the hospital; and way too bubbly as far as Jessica was concerned.

Jane shrugged as she said, "Cause some people can be prickly."

"Prickly?" Jessica mumbled with an edge of hostility dripping into her voice. "First I'm Ms. Moody, now I'm prickly. What the fuck am I, a moody thorn bush?"

"I didn't say you were prickly," Jane countered. "Just that some people are. I don't know you well enough to know what kind of person you are," she said then gave the cup of coffee in Jessica's hand a pointed look.

Jessica continued to glare at the blonde but even she had to admit she could be a little short with people, especially those she didn't know well and for whatever reason Jane just pushed her buttons. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, or offer something vaguely like one, Jane's expression went blank, her head cocked to the side.

"There's…" She started in a distant voice. "Take these," she said shoving the bags holding her purchases at the brunette before she took off running back the way they just came on bare feet. Jane darted down the first alley she came to and disappeared.

"Fucker," Jessica snarled as she chased after the tiny little blonde. Who would have suspected such a little thing could move so quickly, especially on bare feet. She raced down the alley without seeing any sign Jane had even gone this way. Turning left she stopped after only a few feet when she spotted a heavy steel door hanging ajar. It looked as if it had been kicked it in by a forklift, or somebody like… Like her.

If Jane was like her and had some kind of power. For some people that would be reason enough to want her dead. Why was she outside Trish's apartment? Was she a message, or was she looking for help.

From somewhere inside she could just make out the sounds of fighting. "What the fuck are you doing girl?" Jessica mumbled under her breath as she took the stairs two at a time unsure if she meant Jane or herself.

The third floor opened up, wooden post were placed evenly throughout the space and had probably been some sort of sweatshop before it had fallen on hard times. There was garbage strewn all over the area; broken bottles, pieces of concrete and cement, rusted piping, steel drums used for burning trash to provide heat or to cook a meal.

A young girl; who couldn't be much beyond thirteen, if that, had her hands bound to one of the wooden post. Her clothes were little more than tattered rags. Her face and body bore the bruises of numerous beatings.

There was a skuzzy looking man, with his pants around his knees, unconscious on the floor only a few feet away. A dozen feet beyond that Jane was engaged with five other scum of society men while two others were already down for the count.

Jessica could feel her eyes going wide. Jane fought like Jet Li amped up on whatever combat drug Simpson had been taking. She moved with a preternatural grace and contorted her body in impossible ways as she wove through her five playmates, avoiding punches, kicks and every other attack they launched at her.

A rough looking man with greasy brown hair swung a heavy right hand at her head. Jane caught the punch, stopping it cold, her tiny hand grabbing his wrist. She twisted it violently in a tight circle as she glided under the limb. He left his feet, flipping forward just until Jane's rising heel slammed into his chest and sent him back the way he came. He sailed twenty feet through the air, only stopping when he crashed into the outer wall with bone crushing force and dropped to the ground in a heap.

Before the first man even hit the wall Jane was already taking down the next man; her right forearm colliding with his right hip. He cried out as the force of the blow dislocated the joint. Jane gave a solid jerk with her left hand on his right ankle pulling the limb out from under him causing him to collapse backwards onto his back. She did some kind of flip and her right calf connected with his forehead a moment before the back of his head connected with the floor.

She did a quick handspring back to her feet; her left leg rising in a sharp backward arch even before her right foot touched the floor and her heel slammed into the crotch of a man with long, dirty red hair and a twisted hook of a nose. There was a sickening squishing sound and he dropped to the floor with a soundless whine.

The last two men came at Jane together and she meant them head on; deflecting their attacks, twisting them around and lashing out, her fist and feet delivered powerful punches and kicks with impunity making short work of the two men and they hit the floor at almost the same moment.

Jessica kept her eyes focused on Jane as she set the bags down. The entire fight, if it could actually be described as a fight, had lasted only seconds. Ten tops. Jane wasn't even breathing hard, as if she hadn't exerted any effort at all.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Jane said in a rush as she turned to face Jessica. There was concern in her eyes and perhaps a bit of apprehension.

Jessica gave her head a slight shake. She possessed super strength, tough as nails, and hard to hurt but she wasn't invulnerable. Her enhanced strength didn't provide extra speed or reflexes and while she was confident she'd beat Princess Barbie in a straight up tractor pull Jane could easily out fight her. The level of skill the teenager just displayed involved years of intense training, probably from the time the girl had started walking. Still… "No we don't," she responded in a stern I'm the adult kind of voice.

Jane's face hardened; her green eyes, normally so bright and filled with a boundless sort of exuberance turned hard and deadly. Her voice became a death filled whisper. "They were –"

"I know exactly what they were doing," Jessica responded with anger equal to or greater then Jane's. She had suffered her own personal hell at the hands of Kilgrave. "You need to be smart, think things through. How are you going to explain this? The Door? Hell how did even know this was happening?"

Jane fumed silently for several seconds before she finally dropped her eyes and murmured, "I just sort of heard it."

"You heard," Jessica repeated. "Grab their cell," she ordered as she moved into the room. "And make sure none of them are dead." She went through the area gathering up pieces of useful junk and scrape. "When we get through here, me and you, we're going to have ourselves a talk and then we're telling Trish everything."

/ / /

Fifteen minutes later and not even half a block away Jessica and Jane took a table at a small open air bistro and waited for their server to arrive as a pair of cruisers drove past. After securing the men with the few items she had found at the scene Jessica made sure everything they might have touched was wiped down and then used one of their phones to dial nine-one-one with a small rusted nail.

An attractive girl with long auburn hair that fell to the middle of her back and striking blue eyes wearing a white tee with the restaurant's name emblazoned above the her left breast pocket and black shorts. She kept her hair tied back with a deep green elastic band exposing a long and slender neck. Jessica didn't think the girl could have been more than twenty and this was a part time gig to put a bit of spending money in her pocket while attending college. She introduced herself as Claire and would be their server. Jessica kept a neutral expression as Jane ordered several items; a ham, bacon, egg and cheese croissant along with a fruit salad and a large cup of coffee with cream and sweetener on the side as well as cup of chi-tea. Jessica simply ordered a large black coffee.

"I'm hungry," Jane told the brunette, "and since I don't really know what I like I figure go for variety."

Jessica ignore Jane and the fact teenagers could eat just about anything and not worry about the consequences. She waited until Claire was several steps away before demanding, "How the hell did you hear something… I don't know, more than a city block away?"

"I don't –" Jane started then stopped, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. She glanced across the street, Jessica following her gaze. "See that guy?" She inquired with a nod towards a business man just getting out of a taxi. He was carrying a briefcase in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear.

"What about him?"

There was a look of concentration on Jane's face as her gaze followed him. "He's talking to his wife, telling her he has to work late tonight. Asking her to apologize to Hannah about having to miss her recital but its business and he can't get out of it."

Jessica smirked lightly at Jane. "Yeah, good one. There's…"

"He's lying," Jane went on as if Jessica hadn't spoken. "His respiration increased and his pulse spiked bit."

"There is no way you could hear that," Jessica all but snarled at the younger girl. She had to lying. But what if she isn't? A little voice nagged at the back of her head. There are aliens and mutants in the world, a guy that turns into a giant green muscle with the communication skills of a pissed off badger. Hell they thawed out Captain Fucking America and Tony Stark built a suit of high-tech battle armor. There was even some nut-job that claimed to be Thor, the Norse God of Thunder.

Jane simply smiled at her. There was something almost predatory about it. "Want something a little closer to home?" Jane asked. There was a pleading, don't make me do this, quality to her tone. "How much whiskey do you put in your coffee? At first, when you and Trish came into my room I didn't know what that aroma was, where it was coming from but it didn't take long to figure it out." For a moment she seemed to focus inward. "I think, maybe someone I knew was an alcoholic," she said after a moment. "At least I get that feeling."

Jessica glanced around and took a shallow breath. She would have to do some research about amnesia. Maybe talk to a doctor or two. "What about the door? The fighting? How do you explain–"

"I don't know," Jane gripped in clear exasperation as she cut Jessica off. "It's like with the languages," she said.

Jessica cocked an expressive eyebrow at the teen. "Do I even want to know?"

"When I came to in the ER, I was asking questions in several different languages… Hindi, Mandarin, Farsi."

"Right," Jessica said with a bit of smirk. The Doctor had made the same claim, but she hadn't believed him either thinking that Jane had simply been rambling incoherently, a not unheard of occurrence for somebody waking up in a strange place after a traumatic event.

Jane returned Jessica's smile. She looked up as Claire approached with their drinks and her food. "Ca sent le délicieux," she said in what Jessica thought was French.

Claire arched a questioning eyebrow at the tiny blonde as she set her food and drinks on the table. "Tu parle Français?"

"Oui," Jane answered with a, I told you so, smirk in her eyes. "Si ça ne te dérange pas de demander, votre accent est étrange?"

"Ma grand-mère ne parle pas beaucoup Anglais," Claire answered. "Comment saviez-vous que je parlais Français?"

Jane shrugged as she said, "Je vous ai entendu parler à une femme dans la cuisine, votre grand-mère, Je suppose." She noticed Claire looking back in the direction of the kitchen. "J'ai beaucoup d'oreilles," she added with a bit of a smile.

Claire returned the smile. "Dit le loup."

Taking a bite of her sandwich Jane closed her eyes and simply savored the taste, allowing the vast array of flavors to flood her mouth as she took several moments to quickly swallow the small sample she had taken. "C'est fantastique. Mes félicitations au chef."

"Je vais les transmettre," Claire said. She noticed another costumer settle into a chair. "Je devrais vraiment rentrer au travail."

"Bien sûr. Je vous remercie," Jane said and received a polite nod before Claire moved away. Jane returned her attention back to Jessica as she took a larger bite of her sandwich. "So?"

Jessica's scowl didn't soften, if anything her eyes seemed darker than before. "Fine, so you can speak few different languages," she finally admitted if somewhat grudgingly. "It still doesn't explain the fighting or the door?"

"This is really good," Jane said as she swallowed having devoured more than half her sandwich in just a matter of seconds. She exhaled taking in the look on Jessica's face. "I don't know Jessica," she said in an exacerbated huff. "To fight like that, the years of training I would have to have received…" She gave her head a slight shake. "You're talking years and years and even more years. Then be able to mold them, move seamlessly from one style to the other," she looked Jessica in the eyes. "I'd have to older then you," Jane finished with something of a glint in her green eyes.

"I'm not that old," Jessica grumbled.

"Twenty five," Jane guessed. Her grin grew a bit as she popped a grape into her mouth. "My god, what were the dinosaurs like?"

"You're a pain in the ass," Jessica informed the teenager.

Jane popped another bit of food into her mouth. "I don't think Trish would want you to use that sort of language around me. You know, me being an impressionable young mind and all."

"Hurry up," Jessica said as she reached across the table and plucked a strawberry out of the fruit salad. Seeing the teenager glare at her Jessica smiled. "We're running late and Trish'll be waiting for us."

/ / /

"Fuck," Trish mumbled as she came to a stop in front of the island counter separating her kitchen from her living room. They could figure a way around this. It wasn't like she didn't have experience in dealing with super powered teenagers.

Jessica shot Jane a knowing smirk were the teenager sat on the arm of the sofa. Jane simply shrugged in return. It wasn't like she'd never heard an adult swear before, actually as she thought it over she hasn't ever heard an adult swear in front of her.

"And you just let her?" Trish asked Jessica without any anger accusation in her voice that the brunette could hear.

"Hey," Jane cut in. "Don't go blaming the Grumpy Old Brunette Brigade. It isn't like she could've stopped me. I'm like way faster, stronger to. Plus I know how to fight… I mean really know how to fight."

Trish's gaze went from Jane to Jessica, and then back again. "Really?"

Jessica had a curious look in her eyes. "Faster," she said softly, "probably and she does know how to fight, better than anyone I've ever seen before." She walked over towards the island counter. "Come on over here short stuff."

Jane looked slightly confused as she slid off her seat but she padded over to where Jessica indicated. "Jess, I don't think this is a good idea," she said softly; though to her ears it sounded more of a plea.

"What makes you think you're stronger than me?" Jessica asked. She almost sounded innocent.

"You said I kicked in a steel door," she reminded Jessica. "Then there was that guy I kicked across that room. What was that, like twenty feet?"

Jessica pulled out a stool and indicated one on the other side of the counter as she said, "Something like that," as she sat and set her elbow on the counter.

Jane sat on the stool and took hold of the brunette's hand. "Whenever you're ready," she said.

"Jess," Trish said concern coloring her tone.

"Its fine Trish," Jessica assured her.

"I promise not to hurt her," Jane told the older blonde.

Trish rolled her eyes. For two people so dissimilar they couldn't be more alike. "Fine," she said mildly aggravated by the pair. "Whenever you're ready, go."

For a moment nothing happened, then strain appeared on Jessica's face. She glanced down at the counter. Jane's arm hadn't budged. After another moment Jane's arm started moving backward, her knuckles inching closer to the countertop but there was a hint of effort on Jessica's brow with the strength she was exerting in forcing Jane's arm toward the counter top. Jane's arm stopped moving as she exerted more strength in an attempt to force her arm upward, but it stayed where it was until Jessica started forcing her arm down. Several seconds later her knuckles touched the countertop.

"Jess?"

"She's really that strong," Jessica said as she gave her arm a slight shake.

Jane frowned as she studied Jessica. She felt normal, looked normal. "You're stronger than I thought," Jane said after a moment. "How are you so strong?"

"How are you?" Jessica countered.

"I…" Jane started but her voice trailed off. There was something there, just at the edge but as she reached out it just seemed to slither through her grasp.

Trish gave her head a slight shake as she said, "Jess is strong, like insanely strong. Pick up a car strong, strong."

Jane looked at Jessica. "Really?"

Jessica shrugged slightly as she answered, "I don't know about pick up a car…?"

"Please," Trish said. "You can so pick up a car and you know it."

Jessica rolled her eyes as Jane asked, "So how strong do you think I am?"

"I don't know," Jessica answered.

"Do you think I could pick up a car too?" Jessica scowled at her. Trish smiled at her friend as Jane asked, "A cute guy?"

"O'kay, I'm out of here," Jessica said standing up. She grabbed her coat and scarf. "You two bond or whatever your suppose to do," she suggested heading for the door.

"What about the DNA profile and fingerprints," Trish asked.

"You've got the paperwork Jaspers gave you," she stopped by the door and looked back at Trish. "I'd hold off on doing the DNA for right now, but any precinct can run the fingerprints. Of course you could always go to any private lab and have them run the test. I could probably get a list of reputable labs for you."

"Thanks Jess."

Jessica nodded as she opened the door. "I'll give you a call later," she said and slipped out the door leaving the two blondes alone inside the apartment.

After a moment Trish turned towards Jane and took a breath. "Let me show you around. Living room, kitchen," she said pointing to the two areas they were in. They moved to the hallway, it wasn't very long at a dozen feet. "My room's at the end of the hall. Bathroom and my study are on the right. The spare room, which we'll convert to your room over the next few days, and my home gym are on the left."

"There's no need to rush anything," Jane said. "I mean we don't even know if we like each other. I could slurp milk out of the bowl or you might leave wet towels on the bathroom floor or toenail clippings on the kitchen counter, I could like anchovies and Canadian bacon on my pizza…"

"Or you could be a kind, caring person who had something terrible happen to them," Trish countered.

"Or Jess could be right about me," Jane said. She sat down on the stool, her bare feet resting on the cool metal. "Could we maybe do one thing before anything else?"

"What would that be?"

"Find me a real name…" She pleaded.


	2. LongWayToNeverLand

Author: Bastille Kain

Title: Come As You Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Buffy has a new name, and no it has nothing to do with Joan. I am not saddling her with a martyr complex. At seventeen with superpowers and no chosen destiny that comes with an early expiration date Buffy would have a blast. Saw it on several occasions: Telepathy/ Invisibility/ Amnesia. Kara (I Forget if Supergirl/Powergirl is Buffy's Favorite Comic Book Character or SMG/not that this Buffy knows who Kara Zor-El is. Those memories are gone, maybe never to return. She just knows she likes the name.) Celia (Buffy's cousin that died as a child, killed by a demon if I'm not mistaken.) Walker (The woman that has generously opened up her home to a total and complete stranger.) Birthday: August 5, 2000 which would be seventeen years before Patricia Walker finds her outside her door. As far as the languages go, her increased fighting skills, even her preferring to go barefoot all stem from the amnesia and her almost intuitive reliance on her connection to the slayer collective (For lack of a better term). She possess skills and knowledge that have been lost to antiquity. Shoes are a relatively modern invention when compared to how long the slayer line has been around and for most of that I'm assuming Slayers, like most people, went barefoot.

I know in the comics the hand is often referred to as demon ninjas or ninja demons or something and in the NetFlix Marvel Universe their five elders resided for a time in the mystical city of K'un Lun before they were banished so they, and possibly Danny might ping on her supernatural radar but nowhere near what a being like Thor would or Dr Strange, Ghost Rider, Blade or any other vampire or demon. Their regular foot soldiers I don't know. Food for thought.

Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.

Pairings:

Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.

Feedback: Is always appreciated.

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. LongWayToNeverLand: Headstones

Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes.

Enjoy the Story,

Kain

Come As You Are

Chap Two: LongWayToNeverLand

Kara, as she had legally changed her name to yesterday morning, smirked at the ease in which a person could adopt a new name. All that she needed to do was tell people what she wanted to be called and she was done.

She squatted on the concrete lip of Trish's balcony and easily maintained her balance. She didn't know where the names Kara and Celia came from or why they resonated so deeply; in her very core, but they had when she stumbled over the pair while researching names. Walker, well that one was easy.

Shoving her off into the New York foster care system… It would have been the smart thing to do; the easy thing, but that wasn't Trish. Instead she opened her home to a complete stranger. There wasn't a better way to honor someone so giving of themselves except to try and live by the example they set.

While adopting her new name had been easy, if she wanted to do more than skate by; like get a job, attend school, apply for credit or take out a home loan, get a passport, she needed a social security card and for that there were forms that needed to be filled out and filed.

Jessica had put Trish in contact with a really good law firm; Hogarth Chao & Benowitz and then warned her that Jeri Hogarth was a grade A Bitch but she was one of the best attorneys in New York. Trish had contacted the firm and her case was handed off to one of their midlevel lawyers, a Marci Stahl.

According to Marci, it could take months for the Social Security Administration to pull their collective heads out of their ass, but that was normal for any bureaucracy. The simplest work around might be if Trish simply adopted Kara and then filed the necessary paperwork for a new social security card, the other way would involve Doctors and Psychiatrists; not to mention Judges and Court Orders.

Looking up into the night sky the sliver of moonlight provided enough illumination for her to see by, as if it were an hour before dusk instead of two hours before dawn. Kara closed her eyes and simply allowed the cool air to wash over her, caress her skin as she breathed in deeply. The scents of the city filled her taste buds even as her ears filtered through the myriad sounds; sorting, identifying and cataloging.

With a bit of a sigh Kara opened her eyes. She could sit there all night and never scratch the surface of all the information bombarding her. Dialing back her senses Kara glanced at the phone Trish had bought her and the video she's spent the last several minutes viewing.

It was a news clip of one of the masked vigilantes that roamed the city. Spider Man the media had dubbed him. He was fast and acrobatic, was able to cling to the side of a building, he had some sort of mechanical web spinners attached to his wrist, good thing he hadn't gone the anatomically accurate route, and was strong enough to catch a car before it could splat a kid.

At three thirty in the morning, she had managed a few hours of sleep but she was restless, bursting full of pent up energy. The only time she felt calm, at one with herself was when she rescued that girl from the gang of thugs that had abducted her and were in the midst of brutalizing her.

This was different though— like there was something she needed to do.

Turning her phone off, Kara dropped the device into one of the pouches of her back pack and then cinched the pack up tight, securing it on her back. No need to risk it falling off as she performed a field test.

Springing up, she cleared at least fifteen feet, twisting and spinning and flipping before she landed on the fingertips of her left hand balancing herself for more than a minute. Becoming bored she fell backward letting gravity take over and pull her to the street below. Reaching out she caught hold of a security bar over a window and bunched herself into a tight ball. Her feet hit the brick and mortar and she propelled herself across the alley where she caught hold of the fire escape and hurled herself upward clearing twenty feet with each jump… Each leap becoming more and more intricate as she began to add in complex acrobatics before she landed on the roof, a broad smile plastered on her face as the hood of her blue sweatshirt fell back and she quickly raced across the roof covering the hundred feet in a single blink. Her foot touched the concrete lip and she launched herself into the open air with a carefree shout and not a care in the world.

/ / /

Trish padded out of her room on bare feet and blink at the soft light emanating from her living room. She frowned for a moment until the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her nose and the events of the past four days crashed upon her. A head of soft blonde hair just peaked over the back of the sofa where Kara sat, her tablet easily balanced on her knees as she searched the internet. What she was looking for Trish didn't know.

"I left you a cup of that Double Dark Mocha you like so much," Kara called out without so much as a glance in her direction. Despite the ear buds Trish was more than positive were in her ears the tiny blonde had heard her. Or perhaps she had seen the light spill out of her room when she opened the door. Kara was aware of just about everything going on around her. What did Simpson call it…? Situational awareness?

"Thanks," she said in a voice barely above a whisper as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Welcome," Kara called back as she plucked her own over sized mug of dark hot chocolate from the table.

The light from her tablet changed several times as Kara quickly went through series of web pages. Trish poured her cup of coffee, added milk and sugar before making her way into the parlor with a quick glance at the websites Kara was perusing. She took a small sip of her coffee, allowing the warmth to spread through her body. "What are you researching this morning?"

With a, "I promise I haven't done anything yet", expression plastered on her golden, sun bronzed complexion Kara glanced up from the tablet. "I was just researching accessories I might need," Kara said in a tiny, "please don't be mad at me", voice.

Trish wanted to do nothing more than march back to her room, climb under the covers and wait another five minutes before starting her day all over again. She pushed down the urge to vent her frustration at whatever deity might be listening. "Kara, I thought we agreed…?"

"We totally did," the teenager affirmed. "And it's not like I want to go back on my word to you, but…" She stopped and appeared to be on edge; as if she had a reactor full of access energy she needed to burn off. "I did my morning calisthenics…"

Trish didn't even want to know what Kara considered calisthenics. The teenager slept maybe three hours a night, ate enough food to feed an offensive lineman. Aside from covering fifteen blocks up town and fifteen back she had no clue about her morning exercise routine except that it occurred in the predawn hours before any civilized human being was awake.

Running a hand through her blonde hair Kara finally said, "It's not enough Trish. Like there's something more I should be doing…" Trish set her mug on the coaster. "…There's this entire city out there and I've got these abilities…"

Kara stopped as Trish moved from the parlor's comfy chair to sit on the sofa next to the tiny teenager. Putting her arm over the girl's shoulder Trish pulled her into gentle hug, knowing that if Kara didn't want the embrace there was no way she could have budged her but one of the few things Trish had figured out over the last couple of days was the fact Kara relished the affection, practically soaked it up like a sponge, almost as if someone had withheld any sort of emotionally support for a long time.

"I promise you Kara," Trish began as she gently rubbed the teenager's upper arm. "Someday you'll get to help them all, but for right now you need to concentrate on you." She managed to get a good look at the tablet, the image on it. Some sort of grappling gun if she had to take a guess. A sister that didn't want to acknowledge that she was a hero and now a dependent… _Daughter_ , a small voice whispered in the back of her head. A small smile shining in her eyes at the thought. …That simply couldn't wait to make a difference and her worried about both of them, if for completely separate reasons. "You're sixteen years old, maybe seventeen if we push it. What you need is to be concerned with is school. Maybe even getting your license, unless you never plan on going outside the city in which case public transportation is fine. Finding you a job, something part time…"

"The Avengers hiring?" Kara asked with a broad smile then went on to add, "I could so take Arrow Dude or Miss Red Head With An Attitude. Maybe even Col Popsicle and don't even get me started on Mr. Philandering Knight."

Trish couldn't help the smile even though she wasn't quite sure if Kara was serious or not. _God,_ _I really hope she's joking_. The thought of her interview alone was enough to make her cringe. "So, high tech grappling gun?" She asked with a nod toward the screen.

Kara shrugged at the question before she said, "Safety precaution."

"Safety," Trish prodded.

"We know I'm strong," Kara said. "Maybe not Jess strong, but still… I can juggle your weights blindfolded. So strong, good hand eye coordination, wickedly fast with like hyper acute balance and amazing acrobatic skills. My senses are off the chart and I heal really fast. We can't forget the killer fashion sense, not that I put it to that much use. Still don't know how well I can take a punch and it's going to start getting cold, what if I slip on a patch of ice. Rather not find out if I can survive a five story," she shrugged and then added, "or a ten story fall after I hit the ground."

Trish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She so did not want to think about this incredible young woman lying in an alley someplace. Safety was a good word. Kara's strong arms pulled her close. Like Jess, Kara didn't feel like sculpted marble or steel or anything else super hard.

"I was watching this news clip of Spider Man, and he has these web shooters thingies and I was thinking to myself… Self, I said and I actually said that," Kara said with a hint of a smirk in her voice and Trish couldn't help but smile as she opened her eyes. "Self, that is a mighty fine idea."

Trish shook her head slightly. She could so see Kara having that conversation with herself. "So you're planning on buying yourself a grappling gun?"

Kara frowned as she looked down at the image. "I think I might be able to build something along these lines, barring an accidental meeting…" Trish could almost hear the air quotes surrounding Kara's phrasing. "…with the web-slinger and getting him to spill the ultra, super secrete blueprints to his web shooters and the even more secrete chemical formulae to his web-goo. Maybe I could convince him to go into business together. Just think of what the cops would be willing to pay to get their hands on a non-lethal…"

"Kara," Trish cut in. Sometimes it almost took a super power to bring Kara to a halt when she got on a roll. "You're not going to arrange," she emphasized the word, "a meeting with Spider Man." She could almost see the wheels turning in Kara's head as she tried to figure a way around Trish's proclamation. "Now what do you mean you think you could build a grappling gun?"

Looking back at the tablet Kara offered her a shrug. "It's like with the languages or the fighting," she said with a bit of a frown. "Only it's a little different. When I look at the grappling gun I can see how to build it, build the pieces, how they'd go together but it's more than that. Like I can see how to improve it, the equipment I'd need to make the pieces. I'd need to draw up a set of blueprints and it's not like I want to go around shooting holes into people buildings which is why I so need to get a hold of Spider Man. He's already come up with a chemical formulae for the filament he uses." She glanced at Trish with a hopeful gleam in her eyes and asked, "Do you think he'd answer a personal ad?"

"Kara," Trish ground between clenched teeth. "You are not taking out a personal ad to meet Spider Man," she informed the teen in her best this is not going to happen voice that her own mother often used on her as a teenager.

"But…"

"No," she said with finality. Kara pouted. If she hadn't seen similar expressions on her own face when she was even younger than Kara from years of practice in front of the mirror it might have been enough sway her but as it was she found herself largely immune to Kara's pout. "Go, shower and put something nice on. We're meeting Marcie at the courthouse this morning. She was able to get your hearing pushed up."

"Really?" Kara murmured with a bit of hesitancy.

"Today we begin the process of turning you into a real girl," Trish said with a smile. Then just because she couldn't help herself she added, "And tomorrow we get to enroll you in a real school. See if that'll be able to burn off some of this boundless energy you seem to possess."

Sticking her tongue out at the older blonde Kara informed her, "You're evil," before lightly slapping her in the head with one of the tiny throw pillows.

Trish laughed softly as she deftly took the pillow from Kara and gave her a mildly playful shove to get her going. Finishing off her extremely caffeinated cup of coco Trish stood up and grabbed Kara's mostly empty mug and made her way around the island countertop and placed both mugs into the sink. Stepping into her home gym she groaned slightly. _Kara hadn't been lying_ , the thought came unbidden as she took in the minor mess.

Three days ago she had been planning on a workout and stepped into her gym only to stop in her tracks as she witnessed Kara, blindfold firmly in place as she juggled a quartet of forty-five pound weights. She had turned around and walked out without saying a word, but somehow Kara had sensed her presence and a few minutes later the teenager had found her sitting on the sofa, a lost look swimming in her eyes. "Are you alright?" Kara had asked her with so much concern straining her normally carefree voice that it was almost physically painful to hear.

How do you tell a teenager that no, you are not alright. That your entire world view had just shifted irrevocably. And then tell her it was all her fault. Intellectually she had known Kara was like Jess, but Jess never seemed comfortable with her powers. Not like Kara. If anything the tiny blonde reveled in her extraordinary abilities.

Jess had tried to be a hero once…

But then Kilgrave sunk his mental claws into her.

How did she prevent Kara from suffering the same fate? Could she? Kara was so determined, convinced that it was her place to save everyone. How did she get through to her? Make her understand that right now the only person she owed anything to was herself.

/ / /

Keeping her eyes moving Kara attempted to watch everyone close to her as Trish, Marcie and herself made their way from Judge Richmond's private chambers, or Percival as he insisted they call him after their business was finished. He was youngish, for a judge, not much older than thirty-five, forty tops with light auburn hair cut short and kind, almost grandfatherly hazel eyes, a bit on the short side with more of a stocky physic from the fifteen or so pounds he just couldn't shed. Probably from the bear claw and extra sweet cappuccino he couldn't resist on his way into work each morning. There was also the week old scent of cannabis lingering on his fingers.

All in all Kara liked the man, a family court judge and the minor article in the Tribune had caught his eye; Amnesia Girl Found By Local Celebrity. He even admitted that when he spotted her case on the docket he had arranged for it to wind up on his calendar, he would deny any such claim they might make but if he could arrange something close to a happy ending he would.

They had spent nearly an hour going over the finer points of the case and what was going to be required of them, such as her staying out of trouble, keeping a low profile and so on. He suspected, but didn't actually know, nor did he want any sort of confirmation, that Kara possessed superhuman abilities. So long as she didn't make a spectacle of herself there shouldn't be any sort of mob clamoring at her door with torches, chains and pitchforks.

"Is everything alright Kara?" Marcie asked noticing the tiny blonde's almost hyper-vigilance.

"I'm not…?" Kara began as she shifted her gaze to the mezzanine above them. "I keep getting this feeling like somebody is watching… us," she told her attorney. _It's not an us but a me_ , she told herself. If Trish and Marcie were of interest to whoever was stalking her, it was because they were close to her. "I'm going to go use the washroom before we get going… No telling how bad traffic is going to be," she told the pair and then added, "last thing I want is to be stuck in a taxi doing the potty dance," as she vanished into the press of people. "Meet you on the front steps in ten," she called back over her shoulder.

Marcie tried to track the teenager with her eyes but blonde was so tiny and she barely disrupted the flow of traffic as they moved from place to place. "Is it all right for her to just, vanish like that if she thinks someone is watching her?" Marcie asked Trish.

Trish gave the lawyer a slight smirk as she headed towards the front of the courthouse. A small twinkle shining in her eyes as a bit of early morning sun caught them. "If someone is stalking Kara, I almost feel sorry for them," she confided to the lawyer.

A speculative gleam flashed across Marcie's face as she stepped close to the other blonde. There were rumors floating around Hogarth Chao & Benowitz about Jeri Hogarth's special investigator Jessica Jones. That she was one of these special people and the man she killed a few months ago possessed powers as well, that he was in fact responsible for the death of Wendy. Not that the police did much, they wanted everything connected with Jessica Jones and the man known as Kilgrave to simply disappear. She didn't want to take the chance of someone overhearing the next part of their conversation. "So, what Judge Richmond said is true?" She asked. "That Kara is…?" She let the second part of her question hang there.

"I thought we could call him Percival? You know, while he wasn't being all official," Trish said as she managed to avoid answering the question.

Marcie flashed Trish a tight smile as they moved across the lobby floor. Keep moving and keep the smile in place so no one suspects you're anything more than a pretty face. "Don't let Richmond's little charade fool you. The man has political aspirations and he needs a hot button soap box to make his platform and there's nothing hotter right now than super-humans. It's a little risky on his part but he's using you and Kara, testing the waters as it were and you make the perfect chum. Especially for a shark like him."

Trish kept a discrete eye on Marcie as they walked and wondered what game the woman was playing at. As far as she was concerned there was only one way to find out. More than one way but she so didn't do subterfuge. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Unlike popular depictions not all lawyers are evil incarnate," Marcie told her earning a soft laugh from the radio host. "You're a good person and Kara seems to be cut from a similar cloth," she said before entering the security checkpoint. While the officers did their jobs she kept an eye out for Kara but the tiny blonde still hadn't appeared. As Trish stepped up to her she went on, "As you might imagine, I don't actually get to meet a lot of good people in my line of work…"

"Then do something else," Trish said. She couldn't imagine doing anything other than what she was doing. When she had started acting that had been fun but it hadn't taken very long to shatter her illusions. Acting was work and lots of people depended on their paychecks which meant they had depended on her.

"I like my job," Marcie told her. "I'm good at it. I get to compete in a man dominated field and because I'm smarter than the majority of my peers, I win far more often than I lose."

"I can see modesty and humility got left on the cutting room floor," Trish noted with a friendly grin.

Marcie matched the smile with one of her own. "Highly overrated if you ask me," she replied.

/ / /

Kara slipped out of the vent, landing in a crouch on the courthouse roof. There were plenty of hiding places up here, lots of little nooks and crannies but her stalker was up here, of that she was sure. Their little game of hide and seek had led her all the way up here, from one floor to the next. Just as she'd get close he, and she was positive it was a he… Or maybe an it. Could definitely be an it, just like that Pennywise character King did that god awful TV movie about. He would vanish only to reappear a few seconds later but always above her until now.

Standing up she called out, "I know you're up here. No sense hiding," she added striding confidently to the center of the roof.

From behind her a man began speaking, "Who…?"

She spun around at the very first sound of his voice, just managing to keep the surprise from her green eyes; he hadn't made a sound getting behind her. He had some way of making himself completely silent, or invisible to all of her senses because she hadn't smelt him either and with the amount of cheap liquor wafting off him she would have definitely noticed that, especially with the irritatingly erratic wind that insisted on blowing her hair around. Or he had some way of instantly transporting himself from place to place.

"…said I was hiding kiddo?"

He was wearing a cheap rumpled suit and leather fedora that should have stayed buried in the sixties. There was a bit of extra meat on his bones which probably meant he didn't miss very many meals and there was a sort of boyish quality to his face but his eyes… His eyes were older than old but they were filled with an abiding sadness; a deep pain he tried to hide behind a mask of forced cheerfulness. He looked broken. He lifted a brown paper bag and took a long pull from the bottle that was almost hidden within the bag.

"Who are you?" She demanded in something close to a growl.

Lowering the bottle he took her in from head to toe. "Always were one to go right for the jugular," he said with a smirk as he lifted his bottle and took a quick sip.

"I asked…?"

"Good to see you made it one piece," he cut her off. "More or less," he added with a cryptic lilt to his voice.

Kara scowled at him. "You know who I am?" She questioned. She so wanted answers out of him. Maybe a good beat down would convince him to give her what she wanted.

"Who you are," he took another pull from his bottle as he turned slightly putting her out of his direct line of sight as he looked towards the sun. "Haven't really got a clue Kiddo." His voice was filled with the same pain she had seen in his eyes earlier.

"Then you know who I was," she countered.

"Need to know," he answered as he walked toward the ledge. After a couple steps he stopped and added, "And sorry to say… You definitely don't qualify. 'Bout the only thing I can tell you is that you made some very powerful people, and when I say people I don't actually mean people, nervous because of something that happened to you. You no longer fit in with their plan so they decided it was time for you to go."

"Could you make that any more vague?" She grumbled softly as she took a couple steps closer to him, trying to keep him within lunging distance in case he decided to pull a runner. "If you know who I am why won't you tell me? It's tearing you up, and aside from a desire to turn your ribcage into a fashion accessory I don't know you from spit."

He laughed at that. It was a deep rich sound. "Trust you to remember that," he said with a bit of a chuckle.

She took another step closer. If he was unnerved in anyway by her nearness it didn't show as he continued to gaze at the sun. "Why won't you tell me anything?"

"Sometimes Kiddo not knowing is a blessing," he answered. "Telling you what I know, you'd lose everything again and this time… There wouldn't be any coming back. Not for you, probably not for me either." Turning around he took her in again as if locking the image in place. "You have a shot at a good life here Kiddo. Better than you were going to have. Do you really want to risk what you have now for something you can never have again? Risk the people you care about here? Trish and Jess… That sexy little lawyer that's helping you and her boyfriend. Who the hell actually lets people call them Foggy? There's even that Judge and his niece and nephew, don't drop your left when you're dealing with him."

"You keep your grubby hands…"

"Not my hands you gotta worry about Kiddo."

Kara wanted to lash out, wanted to beat this irritating person, thrash him to within an inch of his miserable, misbegotten… She wanted to watch his life slip away, just slowly ebb out of him one heartbeat at a time. "Get away from me," she told him in a soft, menacing voice.

"I wish…" He started but stopped himself from finishing his desire. The sadness and misery were back and for the briefest of moments she thought he was going to relent and give her all the answers she wanted. Between one instant in the next he was gone. Simple vanished as if he had never been there.

She dropped to her knees and wanted to scream. Wanted to vent and rage. Wanted to know if her decision had been the right one or if she had simply taken the easy choice? The known instead of the unknown.

/ / /

"Any idea where she went?" Jessica asked.

Trish frowned slightly at the implication in Jess' voice as she sat down at the table on her balcony to enjoy the cool august air. "There's an under twenty-one club a couple blocks away. I pointed it out to her a few days ago but she didn't seem all that interested in going until tonight."

"You mean after you let her confront a stalker at the courthouse? How'd that go by the way?"

Settling her cup of tea on the glass table top, Trish shrugged slightly despite the fact Jessica was somewhere across town. "Not as well as I expected. With how you went on with how well she could fight and how she's almost as strong as you…? I don't think this was your typical type of stalker. By the time she reached us she seemed, I don't know… Withdrawn. Like there was this weight dragging her down."

"I was more asking about the court thing not the stalker thing," Jessica comment and Trish could almost hear the amusement in her voice.

"Good," Trish said. "Richmond signed off on getting her a social security card. He went through the medical file, well had a doctor give him the pertinent information. The same with the shrink's evaluation. Then he spent about half an hour questioning Kara. Did you know she made the paper, Amnesia Girl or something like that?"

"You mean the one that goes on about local celebrity Trish Walker who's quick thinking and profound selflessness helped save a severely injured girl?" Not for the first time Trish would have liked to possess the ability to reach over the phone and throttle her best friend. "Nope, haven't read a single word of it."

"Just in case you've forgotten, don't ever go into comedy," Trish reminded her.

"So before the whole stalker thing Kara seemed fine with getting one step closer to you officially adopting her?"

"I think so," Trish answered. "She seemed excited. We were talking about checking out the schools in the district. It would be easier if we could narrow down her field of interest…"

"You ever think a plain old high school might be best? Let her discover herself. I mean it's only going to be a couple of years and then you're talking collage," Jessica pointed out.

"Christ," Trish swore. "I didn't even give that a thought. We're supposed to be doing some sort of high school placement test this weekend. Eric, Dr. Holirveind did some sort of IQ test the other day, he said it was very basic and not up to the modern standard they use when studying someone's intelligence but it would give them a starting point."

"So, Eric…?" Jessica teased her best friend. "Is he cute?"

"He's Kara's doctor Jess," Trish replied with several levels of eew in her voice.

"That's a hell no, he's butt monkey ugly then?" Jessica interpreted Trish's response.

"God no," Trish corrected Jessica. "He has got an ass you could bounce a quarter off of," she said extolling one of the doctors best physical attributes. "And his eyes. They're these ocean blue color with tiny little flecks of green."

"So does Kara know you got the hots for her doctor?"

Trish scowled at her phone for all the good it did her so she went with a rather simple but still effective, "Shut up. And try to get some sleep tonight. Real sleep; not that passed out, drunk thing you do so well."

"Night Trish."

"Night Jess," Trish replied hanging up her phone. Slipping the cell into the pocket of her robe she took in the New York skyline as she took a deep breath. Shifting her gaze slightly she stared in the direction of the club Kara should be at right now. It wouldn't take much effort on her part to find out if she was there but she restrained herself, she needed to trust Kara and Kara needed to know she could trust her. At least this time she had left by the front door instead of some Olympic level gymnastic routine that involved fire escapes, security bars, drain pipes, and the occasional flag pole.

She had given her a time to be home by and instruction about picking up guys or as Jess suggested girls. She wasn't naive enough to believe Kara was a completely innocent teenager, the girl's favorite song was, "I Touch Myself", from the Divinyls. The song was thirty years out of date but she knew the lyrics by heart. At least now she was delving into more modern music and movies, almost like she was attempting to catch up on the last twenty years that had somehow passed her by.

Then again there was nearly a twenty year gap in what she knew. Between ninety-eight and now there was a vast void of, when she learnt the Twin Towers were no longer standing she demanded to know what had happened. She instantly got the Nine One One reference when they told her that a group of Islamic extremist had hijacked a pair of planes on September Eleventh Two Thousand and One and flown them into the massive buildings, the resulting fires causing the Twin Towers to collapse, killing close to three thousand people. She knew absolutely nothing about the Chitauri invasion that took place on May Tenth Twenty Twelve, or any member of the Avengers aside from information she's downloaded since her arrival. The X-Men, mutants, super-humans and the like were a complete mystery to her.

Yet she could close her eyes, meditate for a second and describe to you in aching detail the city of Berlin, the rising tensions in the city as an extremely charismatic Adolf Hitler rose to power. And she told the story in perfect German for the time period. She had checked, playing the recorded session to a noted historian at NYU. After that she had cancelled follow-up appointments with that psychiatrist, a borderline quack as far as she was concerned that went on and on about repressed memories and past life experiences. The last thing she wanted to do was expose Kara to that sort of thinking…

 _But what if it's true_? A little voice nagged in the back of her head. _What if she is some warrior woman reincarnation or constantly flung forward in time after each death she suffers_? _Doesn't she deserve to know that_? The voice argued softly, insistently. In a way it made sense. It would explain the languages and the knowledge gaps.

Picking up her cup of tea she took a sip and frowned. It was cold. Somehow sitting out on her patio she had lost track of time. "Too much thinking," she tells herself as she stands and makes her way to the door. Taking a look back towards the club she hopes Kara is having a good time.

/ / /

"Amara," the taller blonde introduced herself to Kara as the pair waited for the bartender to make his way down to them.

Turning slightly to get a better view Kara flashed Amara a tight smile. She really wasn't in the right mood to hang out with a total stranger. Only she didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to drag other people down with her which was why she came here when Trish broached the subject of going someplace with people her own age, instead of hanging around old people. Not that Trish or Jess were actually old, they were just older. This was her chance to kind of get acclimated to her own age group in a neutral environment and what has she spent the night doing…? Sitting at the bar, ignoring one cute guy after another and nursing a strawberry flavored smoothie.

"Kara," she said as the bartender, James if she remembered his name correctly, finally arrived. He was a tall young man, four or five years older than her suspected seventeen. Of Native American descent, Apache if she wasn't mistaken, he had dark brown eyes with a thick mane of long jet black hair. At a few inches shy of seven feet and the physique of a professional wrestler he was a mountain of a man.

Amara gave him her order; a cherry coke, a bottled water, and a virgin White Russian. While he was there Kara asked for a fresh strawberry whatever it was she had been nursing. "I'm pretty sure everything in this club is virgin," she told Amara as the girl waited for the bartender to return with her drinks.

"Quae non est virgo in clava," Amara said as she gave Kara a more than friendly appraisal.

Kara felt the temperature in her cheeks heat up at the other blonde's look. She was more than grateful for club's low level of lighting. "Ego certus non placebit sibi, si quid aut contumeliam fecerit?"

Amara frowned slightly as she stared at Kara. After a second or two her eyes lit up and a broad smile spread across her face. "You speak Latin?" She asked as a plan began to form in the back of her head.

James returned with their drinks, on a fake silver platter. Kara shrugged lightly as she said, "I have a thing for languages," without any further elaboration while she reached into her pocket to pluck one of the bills there out to pay for her drink.

Amara quickly waved her off saying, "I've got it," as she handed James her credit card.

"Um… Thanks," Kara said a little hesitantly.

"Don't thank me yet," Amara advised as James returned with her credit card. She tugged on Kara's arm a little surprised that it didn't budge. The petite blonde looked like a slight breeze might be enough to knock her over. "Grab the tray," she requested pleasantly.

Kara wanted to roll her eyes but instead she turned to James and said, "áho," as she grabbed the tray full of drinks.

James offered Kara a pleasant smile as she turned her back and followed the other blonde. He pulled out a towel and wiped down the counter. The little blonde had been decent company while she sat there; engaging a number of people in meaningless conversation. He kept a discreet eye on the two blondes as they made their way up a flight of stairs before disappearing into one of the private rooms.

Kara felt James eyes on her for a moment as she and Amara made their way up the stairs. "Don't worry about Guido and his twin Guido," Amara called over her shoulder as she led her to the top of the stairs. "My uncle owns this place so I think they get paid a little extra to make sure I don't have too much fun."

"Your Uncle…?"

"Old world money and influence," Amara confided as they reached the top of the stairs and she led Kara down a short corridor. They turned right at the first intersection and then into the first room on the right. "Sorry guys," she said to the group of girls inside the room, "but I ran into someone I think can totally help us out with our problem?" She said with a hopeful smile on her face. "Roubpheap Sramol," a tall; dark hair girl of Asian American descent, "Theresa," a red hair young woman with striking green eyes and only a few inches taller than her nearly five feet three inches. "This is Kara, and she just might be the answer to our Professor Ramsey problem."

For a moment Kara thought she had walked into a really bad, really inappropriate joke. The kind that starts off; a Mick, a… Just go ahead and insert your racial slur… walk into a bar. "How's that," Roubpheap asked.

"That suites you," Kara said watching the younger girl. "Your name… Silhouette. I don't know. It just suites you."

Amara flashed her friends a smile as she said, "Kara here has a thing for languages. Finally we can beat Ramsey at his own game."

"Wait a minute," Kara interjected as she set the tray of drinks on the table. "Who the hell is this Ramsey guy you keep going on about? A professor of some sort, so he probably teaches some class the three of you take together. I'm not helping you cheat," she said folding her arms as a stern look creeps across her face.

"It's not cheating so much as tutoring," Amara argued. "You'll get paid and everything. And Professor Douglas Ramsey is this linguistic guru. I don't think there's a language he can't speak. He's the faculty head of the language department at our school. You'd think he'd cut some slack for two people that have spent their entire lives speaking their native language but if anything he's even tougher on Theresa and Sil, just because they don't speak like it's coming out of a text book or because they never learnt how to write it."

"Just because I can speak who knows how many languages who says I know how to write any of them… Khmer, Gaeilge, or Latin?"

A light seemed to spark in Theresa's eyes as something suddenly clicked into place. "I knew you looked familiar," she said pulling out her cell phone and quickly searched for the right site.

"What are you talking about?" Roubpheap asked as she quickly looked over the redhead's shoulder.

"Amnesia girl," Theresa said as she pulled up the video of Kara, Trish and Jessica leaving the hospital.

Kara snatched the phone out of Theresa's hand, moving fast enough that Amara hadn't even seen her move and Roubpheap had barely caught a flicker. "What the hell?" Kara all but snarled as she watched the image replay several times. The urge to crush the phone was overwhelming. She pushed it down as she drew a slow breath. Silhouette was tense, ready for a fight while the other two simply appeared confused. "I'm out of here," she said tossing the phone back at the redhead, just enough off that she had to track the phone and not her.

Amara glanced towards Theresa for a fraction of a second but by the time she turned back Kara was already out the door and Sil was barely on her feet rushing toward the door. She reached the door before Amara but her head swiveled back and forth as she checked the corridor. "She's gone," she said as Amara forced her way into the hall.

"That's…" Amara started as she looked left then right. She looked back at Sil. "I've never seen anyone faster than you," she told her best friend.

"Please," Roubpheap snorted. "We've all seen the footage of Spiderman in action."

"I think you're all missing the bigger picture," Theresa said taking a place just behind the two taller girls. "Amnesia girl is like us and we've all heard Dwayne going on about recruiting new members."

"We are so not recruiting Amnesia girl," Roubpheap said. "And can we please stop calling her that. We know her real name."

"Do we?" Theresa asked. "We know the name she gave us," she pointed out.

"It says she left the hospital with local celeb Trish Walker, a radio talk show host and a, "As yet unidentified woman"," Amara pointed out. "Trish Walker won't be all that hard to track down. I've got aunts that listen to her show."

"So Walker leads us to Amnesia girl," Theresa said with a bit of a smirk aimed at Sil.

Roubpheap scowled at the red head. Theresa was a total pain the ass, raised by her uncle. A man on Interpol's most wanted list. A list that was normally comprised by the worst of the worst, of course he was classified as a mass murderer and a mutant terrorist. "Then what?"

Theresa shrugged as she said, "Hadn't really thought it out that far. Probably have to take it to your boy and see how he wants to proceed."

Rough Translation using Google Translate (Try to keep them in the order they appear):

Latin: Quae non est virgo in clava – English: Not everything in the club is virgin

Ego certus non placebit sibi, si quid aut contumeliam fecerit – English: I am not sure if I should be flattered or insulted

Apache: áho – English: Thank you (Not sure of the accuracy. From an English to Western Apache online Translator. If it's inaccurate please let me know so I can correct it.)

Cambodian: Roubpheap Sramol – English: Silhouette (At least that's what the Silhouette Wikipedia page claims. If that isn't correct let me know.)


	3. I Am A Rock

Author: Bastille Kain

Title: Come As You Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. It is going to be long and complex.

Pairings:

Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.

Feedback: Is always appreciated.

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. I Am a Rock: Simon & Garfunkel.

Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes but here goes… First encounter with MarvelVerse Vampire. Decided to do them as a combination, the younger; weaker vampires are like those depicted in the Blade movies. They are relatively easy to destroy. Older vampires; the vampire lords if you will, are more like Dracula and are much harder to destroy.

Enjoy the Story,

Kain

Come as You Are

Chap Three: I Am a Rock

Kara stood on the roof, her head lolled back as she drew in a deep lung full of New York City's mid august grime filled, muggy air; allowing it to settle her frazzled nerves as she paced the length of the roof, pivoting smoothly and heading back in the direction she had just come from. Her mind was whirling now that she had a moment or ten to stop and think about how she completely mishandled the situation with Amara and her friends.

Only after everything that happened at the courthouse she had felt trapped, as if someone was trying to manipulate her. That odd man on the roof of the courthouse instantly came to mind only she honestly didn't believe he had that type of reach. _Was he even a man_? An odd part in the back of her brain wanted to know. _What else would he be_?

She was going to have to track down Amara and her friends, apologize for how she bolted on them. Some part of that just didn't feel right, as if the three friends hadn't been completely honest with her. Kara shoved that thought away. No one was completely, one hundred percent honest all the time. She hadn't told them her name, or that she had amnesia. Though the amnesia part, that felt like over share for a first meeting. The same as her powers, but she supposed that cat was out of the bag now. How do you even drop something like that into a casual conversation… "Oh, by the way," she mumbled to herself

At least she had a couple of leads; the club and the professor Amara had been going on about. Now if she only knew somebody that was good at tracking things down. A slow smile spread over her lips. Since she was a terrible liar she knew she was going to have to come clean with Jess and hope the PI wouldn't rat her out to Trish until she got around to explaining the situation.

Glancing at the ground three stories below her Kara felt it again. That sense of wrongness. Similar to what she felt at the courthouse only weaker and not directed at her. Closing her eyes Kara focused. It was about four blocks northwest of her current location and heading parallel to her position, but there was something else… Someone else. At the very edge of her senses.

She frowned, a bare thinning of her lips. When Trish had found her four blocks would have been beyond her senses, but now… She stretched out, as if she were attempting to grab something that should have been out of reach, something on the high shelf, only her metaphorical fingers wrapped around it easily. Ten blocks whipped past and Kara pulled back. Or at least she tried to but nothing. It was like a piece of putty that had been stretched out too far.

Instead of wasting time by attempting to pull her senses back in she focused on where she had been. A woman; young and healthy but scared, terrified really. She could hear it in the woman's frantic breathing. The pounding of her heart; could practically smell the fear wafting off her.

Without thinking Kara dropped to the sidewalk; hitting the ground at a run and put on a burst of speed as she heard the woman scream; a frightened, panicked yell that wouldn't have carried very far and ended too abruptly.

Coming around a corner Kara jumped, avoiding a large group of pedestrians milling about. She cleared more than thirty feet, touched down on the roof of a city bus… An ad for Trish Talk plastered to its side… Took a pair of steps and jumped again landing on the roof of a cab and propelled herself back into the air to grab the arm of a turn signal and used it to throw herself across the intersection just barely avoiding a second bus traveling east to west. She hit the concrete and was back at a full sprint by her third step.

She turned down the second alley and spotted them. A tall man with shoulder length black hair dressed in torn and faded jeans and a dark coat. He was hunched over a slightly chunky twenty something year old woman with a pale, almost Nordic complexion. Her sandy blonde hair with its light rustic highlights hung even with her ears. Her pulse was getting weaker and her heart was slowing down. Whatever he was doing to her was killing her. Even as she ran Kara bent down, scooping up a broken chunk of concrete and hurled it as his back with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Impossibly he turned around and caught it with his bare hand without the slightest trace of pain flicking across his features. Blood was smeared all over his lips and his eyes seemed to shine with a menacing light, like dark ambers left to smolder in the ash. He dropped the girl with a cruel smile twisting his face. "You think you're one of this city's defenders?" He mocked her as he flicked the chunk of concrete back at her.

Kara slipped past the projectile and he was on her that quickly, aiming to take her face off with a set of razor sharp claws. She ducked under the attack, driving her elbow into his kidney for all the effect it had on him. He continued to spin around, his leg coming up. Moving in closer she took what little strength his kick might have possessed and made it meaningless as she wrapped up the leg and grabbed the back of his jacket. With a tight spin she slammed his face and chest into a dumpster leaving a vaguely human shape impression within the steel. Then she spun the other way and hurled him against the opposite wall.

He hit the brick and mortar with bone crushing force, bounced back several feet and dropped to the ground. He quickly rolled to his feet, just managing to avoid Kara's spinning blade kick that would have crushed his windpipe. He threw a heavy right cross towards the back of her head, but Kara slipped the punch she somehow felt coming, as she dropped into a split and then slammed the back of her head into his crotch causing him to stagger back. She rolled onto her back, getting her palms under her head as she brought her legs together and flipped up driving her feet into his gut driving him back into the wall. He cursed as she landed on her feet and managed to avoid her spinning hook kick but not the back fist that followed it, forcing him to take another staggering step to the side. Kara jumped slightly and delivered a dropping hook punch that drove him to a knee. Her front kick to his chest shattered ribs but it hardly seemed to slow him as he threw a left right combination that missed and she deftly redirected the right as she glided underneath the limb and began to pelt the right side of his chest and back with a flurry of punches and strikes, any one of which would have been enough to kill an ordinary man but he barely grunted.

He managed to shove her away but the little bit of space it created just gave Kara enough room to execute a rising heel kick and for it to find purchase in his groin; the kick lifted him off his feet. Jumping into the air Kara spun in a tight circle; her left hand latching onto the back of his neck and drove him face first into the blacktop. She rolled onto her back pulling him with her and hurled him across the alley where his bruised and battered body once again made its acquaintance with the thick brick and mortar wall.

Kara was on her feet quickly. But the man… _Is he a man…?_ Lay on the pavement, his soft laughter barely above a hushed whisper. There was something missing. With a look towards the woman Kara frowned, "No," she whispered as she took a few staggering steps closer but stopped. The woman was dead, had bled out while she played. She had meant to save her… Wanted to save her, but –

There was something clutched in the woman's hand. It looked like a silver knitting needle, maybe seven inches long. Kneeling down she closed the woman's eyes with one hand as she palmed the thin stake with the other.

"All that effort," the man said as he brushed himself off as he rose from the filthy alley. "And you still couldn't save her." There was something in his voice that tried to worm its way into her brain. It felt alive as it burrowed deep. She could feel him coming closer to her. "It wasn't really your fault," he said as he continued to creep closer. She could feel his confidence building. "I could feel her calling to me." The stench of his breath was almost on her skin. "She wanted this…" She almost flinched at the touch of his hand on her shoulder. "She didn't want to be saved. You don't want to be saved," he said pulling her around.

Kara spun driving the silver stake into the vampire's heart. Rage burned in her eyes as they flickered for a moment; emerald to sapphire and back again. "I don't need to be saved," she hissed.

His face twisted in pain, horror flooded his eyes for a brief moment just before his body disintegrated into a fine dust like substance. Kara stared down at what had once been a man, realization flashing through her conscious mind. She had just killed… Something. It wasn't human, wasn't even alive but now it was nothing. Dust on the pavement just waiting to be scattered by the elements.

A part of her mind told her to forget it. Move on. The creature wasn't worth the effort it took to remember it. Find the next one. End it just like she had this one.

With a deep shudder Kara shoved the voice calling to her down. Someplace deep where she couldn't hear it's insistent whispering.

Gathering herself Kara leapt up, pushed off the wall and drove herself even higher, caught hold of a flagpole and hurled herself to the roof. She landed easily and reached top speed in just a few steps. Her foot hit the lip of the ledge and she threw herself from one roof to the next, easily crossing a pair of sidewalks and six lanes of traffic in a single jump; allowing the rush, the blood pumping in her veins to drive away any thoughts about what she had become. What she might have been before Trish found her.

/ / /

Dani heard the key to the lock turn and relaxed her mental energies. It wasn't the greatest lock but it was sufficient. The door knob turned and James pushed open the thin piece of wood with a shove to get it clear of the spot it sticks at. Dani slipped the heavy knife back into the sheath secured to the underside of the heavy oak table. He arched an expressive eyebrow as he spotted the movement and she simply shrugged her shoulder.

"Good day at work?" she asked, standing up and gliding across the floor to meet him about halfway. At almost five nine she was considered tall but James was nearly a foot taller, and he bent slightly to capture her lips with a quick, lingering kiss that hinted at their shared desire.

James shrugged indifferently. "About the same as yesterday," he told her placing a plastic bag full of Thai cuisine on the kitchen table. "Amara and her usual crew was there." Opening the fridge he pulled out a forty ounce bottle of water and guzzled down about half of it in a single go.

"You know…" Dani started.

"Don't," James cut her off.

Dani snorted as she got some paper plates down from the cupboard, "Because that's gonna work."

"We've been over this," James said as he started setting out the food containers. He took another, smaller drink from his water bottle.

"It's perfect," Dani argued, placing the plates on the table. "You have the experience and they need someone to teach them."

He shook his head. "I'm not going to help a bunch of spoiled rich kids get themselves killed, or worse, get someone else killed. Like this girl Amara pulled up to her private little tree house. Tiny little thing, couldn't have been more than fifteen…? Sixteen?"

"Cute," Dani asked.

James pulled out a set of silverware from the drawer as he smiled at Dani and answered her question with a, "As a button."

"So Amara is recruiting?"

"I don't know," James answered honestly. "The club's too loud to hear anything more than a dozen feet away." He scooped out portions of food onto each plate. "She could speak Apache," he shrugged as he added, "Needs a bit of work but it was good enough I'd call her fluent and she was picking it up quickly as we talked. She could also speak Italian or maybe it was Latin. I think that's why Amara dragged her off so quickly…?"

"Avoid failing a test," Dani suggested as she sat down.

"Maybe," James said. "What's going on tomorrow?"

"I've got a half shift tomorrow. Cliff is expecting Midnight Thunder to begin the foaling soon and wants someone with experience around if he needs help," Dani explained.

"Good thing your grandfather taught you about horses," he said earning a sad little smile from Dani.

She nodded at his comment. Her grandfather had raised her since she was a small child; after her parents had gone missing while out hiking in the trails just behind their Boulder, Colorado home. She begged them not to go out that day, a sort of waking dream told her that they were never going to come home from their hike.

It was the first time her mutant powers manifested themselves. And she had seen her parents being mauled and dragged off into the nether by some sort of super bear; a creature straight from her most hellish nightmares. Worst the creature had noticed her and she knew that was what drew the bear's attention. That she was the reason her parents had been torn away from her.

Their bodies had never been recovered and the official report said that they most likely had fallen into one of the numerous gullies or ravines that were found in that area of Colorado, possibly even some sort of natural cave.

She knew better.

"Once I finish work we can meet up and start in on that next lead," she said shoving those memories back into the depths of her soul. "I've got the eight to one shift…"

Reaching out James took Dani's hand and offered her a rare, hard earned smile as he gently squeezed her hand. Meeting her a few days after arriving in New York had been a godsend. He had been rudely awoken to the fact that the city was nothing like the reservation, or even his life in the army. One he could ride roughshod over and the other was so structured most would call it anal. She managed to keep him focused on his objective; his adopted half sister Bethany, instead of losing himself in all the noise and distraction of the search.

Dani helped him find a job. She allowed him to live with her, provided he kept up on his share of the expenses, and helped him in his search for a sister he never meet before. She was his sounding board and they often talked late into the night, or into the early morning. He didn't have to hide himself from her, wanted her to know all there was to know about him.

Who would have thought that the daughter of the Cheyenne would ever help the son of the Apache. Their respective tribes hadn't engaged in open warfare but they weren't exactly friendly with each other. A lot of land separated their two tribes.

James didn't know when it happened; he didn't have an exact date marked off on the calendar that proclaimed this is the day I fell in love with Danielle Moonstar, but knew he had. Knew it with how his heart raced when he caught her scent in the air.

"Well then," James said as he pulled her to him and easily picked her up as he stood. "We can't be keeping you up all night then." His mouth captured hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was light enough he easily carried her into their bedroom. Then again, his VW bus was light enough for him to carry. With an absentmindedness thought about privacy he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him.

/ / /

There was a distinctive odor that filled the cramped hallway of Chesterfeld Academy of Academic Excellence; dozens of different aftershaves, perfumes, deodorants, shampoos, sweat and other unmentionable things that Kitty desperately wanted to ignore as she dug into her locker searching for her AP Bio-Chem Workbook.

She was thin, not runway, anorexic model thin, much more of a healthy, athletic sort of thinness that came from years of playing soccer and basketball. Neither of which she was very good at, but her parents insisted on her not sitting in front of her computer for days on end with no physical activity. Something that was more than likely to happen if she wasn't kept on such a strict schedule. That also meant she didn't possess the sort of sultry curves most guys were looking for in a woman. At five-five, she wasn't tall and with her thick, heavily curled chestnut brown hair and relatively bland features and an extremely flat chest no one would ever call her beautiful.

Attractive, maybe…?

But she knew beautiful was off the table.

Discovering her objective, and wondering how it had gotten shoved under so much other stuff and mangled to such a degree. True Bio-Chem wasn't her favorite subject but it hardly reached the sort of loathing required to mistreat a book in such a fashion. That should be reserved for Music Theorist. Who really cared about the difference between an E# and an F _b_?

A heavy body bumped into her, mashing her into her open locker and was gone just as quick without even an attempt at a backward apology. "Asshole," she mumbled to herself as she checked the hallway to make sure no one was paying attention to her as she removed her forearm from the bank of lockers. It was a minor miracle she hadn't phased all the way through the wall with how hard that shove was.

She didn't want to know what would happen if she got outed as a mutant. How it might affect her future, would people claim she possessed an unfair advantage because her DNA was supposedly superior. If anyone had ever seen her try to sink a free throw they'd probably piss themselves laughing so hard. Whoever came up with the term Homo Saipan Superior should be taken out behind a woodshed and whipped until he thought of something better.

The Germans had considered themselves superior, so had the Japanese. Both committed atrocities during the Second World War. Eugenics and worse. Genocide. And now there were people like Magneto and his Brotherhood… Senators and religious fanatics on the other side and all of them pushing for a final solution. Things were getting worse when they should be getting better.

"You'll alright there?" Sam asked as he leaned up against the locker alongside hers.

Kitty shot him a shrug as she gathered the last of her books. "It's high school," she said as if that simple explanation was the single, most important reason behind all of the world's problems. "When are any of us ever really alright?"

He smiled down at her. It was the sort of smile capable of captivating an entire room. "That some more of your granddaddies' keen observational skills?" He inquired in that down home sort of slur he normally spoke with.

Sam was a tall young man, a little on the thin side for his six foot three inch frame but he was a gifted athlete, a three sports star that was being scouted by all the major universities as well as professional baseball. He could run like the wind, with hands that seemed to latch onto anything even remotely thrown in his direction. He was deadly with a jump shot when he wasn't driving a lane and could see the entire court. His fastball was blazing and went along well with a wicked twelve to six curve that would leave opposing batters looking more than a little foolish and he hit for both power and average.

He kept his blonde hair cropped short and his blue eyes were the color of a frosty morning. His square jaw went along almost perfectly with his aw shucks southern earnestness and he could have had just about any girl in the school but he claimed most of them were just the wrong side of vapid and shallow to have an actual relationship with. He did have something of a reputation though having made his way through a fair number of cheerleaders.

"Nope," she replied shutting her locker and slouching against the cool metal. "That is one hundred and ten percent KAP," she told him with a smirk.

It took Sam a moment but after a second or two he grinned. He wasn't stupid, in fact he was actually maintaining a solid B average with her tutoring him, but his academic achievements weren't the reason behind the full scholarship he was riding to attend Chesterfeld Academy. Sports drove funding, so Chesterfeld did like every other educational institution, made sure they fielded the best all around athletic program they could. If that meant a couple dozen full scholarships to gifted athletes like Sam that was a price they were willing to pay.

Looking across the corridor Kitty frowned at the two socially elite teenagers casually lounging there in an area they had never loitered in before, Amara Aquilla and Theresa Cassidy. Just being in this hall must be sucking the coolness out of their pores. "What the hell are they doing?"

"Problem?"

"Just sensing the vultures circling," Kitty answered.

Sam glanced over at the red head and the blonde. "Want me to go and have a talk with them?"

Kitty shakes her head saying, "Better not. You don't want it to seem like you care too much about me. And don't get all huffy with your manly pride. Even you wouldn't fare too well at five to two odds," Kitty told Sam before he went off and did something stupid as a recent transfer student forced her way between the two taller girls. At least she tried to.

Illyana Nikolievna Rasputina, she was from Russia, a farm girl from someplace in the outskirts of Siberia. She was smart, with barely a trace of an accent on the pair of occasions when the two talked. She was a tiny thing, a freshman if Kitty wasn't mistaken and only just thirteen years old, barely five feet two inches and maybe ninety pounds. She could have easily fit into Amara's circle looking like she belonged on a beach somewhere with her long blonde hair, blue eyes and perfectly tan skin.

Right now though she looked extremely irritated finding her locker blocked. Glaring at the pair she said something and judging by their looks it wasn't very flattering. Turning she marched across the hallway looking as if she were intent on murdering someone and made straight for Kitty. Watching Illyana sort of glide toward her, Kitty felt ungainly in her height.

Planting herself almost directly in front of Kitty, Illyana said, "They…" the tiny blonde started with a slight jerk of her head back in the direction of Amara and Theresa. "…said your name was Kitty."

"Katherine actually," Kitty corrected her but then shrugged and said, "but yeah. Everyone usually just calls me Kitty."

"Ketrin," Illyana said giving the word a slightly different inflection. "My English still isn't very good," she apologized.

"Better than my Russian," Kitty joked earning a slight smile from the blonde.

"When I pointed out they were blocking my locker," Illyana began. She did not like the fact the pair had pretty much ignored her. "They claimed they were trying to figure out a way to approach you about a job."

Kitty blinked at Illyana. Aside from a few socially accepted occasions, no one in their circle ever talked to her, about anything. Ever. They were masters at avoiding all contact with the mass of peons that filled the school. Especially about any type of job. Unless it involved getting rid of a virus, or perhaps tutoring if they'd fallen behind in a class or two, but Amara and Theresa were honor students, low A's and high B's.

"Personally I would not trust them," Illyana told Kitty. "They remind me of girl bratva."

"Isn't that like the Russian mob?" Sam asked.

Illyana graced Sam with a bit of a half smile as she nodded. "Only they're not so nice as the mafia," she answered him.

"Heard Amara's family was connected," he said thoughtfully.

Kitty frowned at the pair, "That's just an urban myth," she told the pair. "Not every successful Italian businessman is connected. That's like saying all Chinese people know Kung Fu, or everyone that follows Islam is a Jihadist."

"Or the Jews control all the money?" Sam asked.

Directing a glare at Sam she said, "You can tell Amara she can suck on a ghost pepper."

"Or that all French women are extremely hot bi-sexual lesbians," Sam continued with a smile as Kitty punched his bicep.

A small, wistful smile slide from Illyana's face as her gaze followed Kitty and Sam as they walked away. She used to have friends like that in the Ust-Ordynsky, back before Piotr arranged for her to come to America to attend Xavier's school for mutants; before he, along with the rest of the X-Men disappeared and forced their mother to rely on Uncle Anatoly for passage. He had helped them, as was right for family but his aid had a price.

Turning back around she returned to her locker and as politely as she could said, "If you would not mind," she made sure her accent was thicker than normal. "Ty deshevaya, gryaznaya doch' chechenskoy shlyukhi." She said forcing her way into her locker. She had to suppress the urge to laugh at their nearly identical expressions; as if they had just been hit upside the head with a heavy blunt object.

"What?" Amara managed. "I barely understand my grandfather. There is no way… What did you just say to us?" The taller blonde demanded.

Illyana glared at the older girl, not in the least bit intimidated. "I said, my next class is across campus and I'd rather not be late."

"What did she say?" Theresa asked. "You did ask her? Right?"

"I mention it," she confirmed as she grabbed a pair of books.

"Well?" Amara demanded.

"Let's see if I remember correctly," Illyana said thoughtfully. "You can hop the express car straight to hell before she'll help you."

/ / /

On bare feet Kara silently padded across Jessica's office apartment. Glancing through another hole in the wall she wanted to snatch a contractor or some drywall and speckle, and begin patching the numerous holes in the small apartment. She doubted Trish would mind the expense. The older blonde would probably consider it something of a blessing, after all Jess wouldn't be able to blame her. Add in the fact that the brunette kind of, sort of didn't outright hate her, and maybe, sort of liked her, Kara was relatively confident Jess wouldn't stay mad at her for too long. An hour or two tops.

Attempting to ignore the women in the hallway, not an easy task considering how much noise they were making. Kara knew she needed to readjust to what she considered a lot of noise. If only her ears came with a volume control. Ever since this morning, after unexpectedly expanding the range of her senses, no matter what she tried, Kara had been unable to rein them in. She was being bombarded; nonstop, with every scrap of sensory information in a ten block radius.

The older woman was a mess. Her husband had been missing for a week now and she was so far beyond concerned. The daughter wasn't any better; she just hid it behind a façade of teenage sarcasm and cynicism.

Exhaling softly Kara closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer as she heard Jessica's drunken stumble as she crossed the intersection almost ten blocks away, at the very edge of her range. She could practically taste the cheap whiskey mixed in the PI's coffee. If only there was some way she could help, but it wasn't possible when no one even told her what the problem was. It had something to do with a recent case, a family named Shlottman, or something like that.

Taking up a place on the window sill, pressing her back against the thin wooden frame Kara rested her bare feet against the opposite wall. Closing her eyes she tried muting the world around her, shutting everything more than a hundred feet away from her out completely. She was kind of amazed she knew exactly where a hundred feet was and was even more astonished when everything beyond that point just… It didn't vanish but there was no longer a thousand screaming voices pounding into her skull like Metallica cranked to eleven and plugged directly into her ears.

Thinking about what she did, Kara knew she made similar attempts earlier in the day but for some reason this worked while the rest failed. Maybe it had more to do with her mental state. That panicked feeling, like the world was about to rise up against her and she needed to be prepared, ready to move at a moment's notice without hesitation, was gone. Was it because Jessica was close, like Linus with his security blanket?

Listening to the elevator as it rose up its shaft. For a moment she wondered if Jess had fallen asleep and winced as she heard the PI bang into the closing doors. Kara grimaced when she heard Jess' special blend slosh onto the floor and knew she wasn't going to want to deal with the mother and daughter seeking her help. She could've been a little nicer when brushing them off instead of trying to smash them to pulp. Maybe the husband was cheating, or maybe he had gotten into something just this side of skeavy and now all he wanted to do was come home but didn't know how to get himself out from whatever he was mixed up in.

Jessica slide her key into the lock and turned it, unlocking the door. She shoved it open a crack as she called back, "Hey." Mother and daughter stop turning back. "Whatever he's doing… I hope you find him," she offered. It sounded more than a bit lame to Kara.

Mother and daughter started walking away, their footsteps loud to Kara, as Jessica sighed heavily and gave the door a gentle shove to give herself enough space to slip through. "Jesus," Jess whispered spotting Kara. She slipped into her apartment, shoving the door close. "Trish said you texted that you were crashing at my place last night," she said turning towards Kara. "I covered…" Her voice trailed off as she got her first real look at the tiny blonde.

"If it helps I didn't lie," Kara told Jess. "I was here when…"

"What the hell happened?" The brunette PI demanded as she crossed the room and took Kara's chin between her fingers. The phone rang but Jess ignored it.

Kara shrugged, she figured the answer would be obvious. "I got in a fight," she told the PI.

"With what, a mack truck?"

The answering machine pick up. Jessica's recorded voice informing the caller they had reached the, "Wrong number."

At the beep an odd sounding voice said, "Jessica Jones. Do yourself a favor and don't look for John Raymond."

Jessica moved quickly picking up the phone. "Hello," she began but the line had already gone dead.

"Does that mean we have a case?" Kara asked, pleading hopefully.

Jess shot the blonde a hard glare. "It means I have to get you to the hospital," Jessica informed the blonde.

Kara rolled her eyes. "And by the time we get there I won't have a scratch on me."

"Fine," Jess huffed somewhat. "Then you can tell me everything that happened."

"Everything?"

"Everything," Jess told the blonde.

Kara took a breath, seemed to hold it for a long time before she finally said, "I think I killed someone…? Or maybe re-killed would be a better word because really, how do you kill someone who is already dead?" At Jess' blank look Kara finally said, "I think the guy was a vampire."

"Vampires aren't real," Jess told her.

Kara arched a rather expressive eyebrow as she asked, "Gods and alien invasions you're down with? Hot chicks with superpowers…? You're good with them too? But you draw the line at dead people sucking blood from gaping wounds and going poof when you shove a silver stake through their heart?"

Jess knew she was going to regret this but she couldn't help herself. "Start at the beginning K and don't leave nothing out."

"At the beginning," Kara repeated. "And leave nothing out," She thought back to how her night started out. "Pretty much Trish kicked me out and told me to have a good time. She have a boyfriend I need to have a shovel talk with?"

Jess fought the smile that threatened. She almost hoped Simpson showed his face again just so she could watch Kara pound him into a paste like substance, but it had been months and he hadn't resurfaced yet. Jess had the feeling when he finally did it was going to be bad. "Focus Kara, I'll give you all the dirt on Trish's exes later."

The tiny blonde huffed, blowing a stray lock of nearly white blonde hair out of her face. "I'm going to hold you to that," Kara promised. "So I'm at Sotto Twenty-One…" Seeing Jess' blank look she adds, "It's Italian for Under or beneath… Any number of similar words." She opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a pair of the cheap generic brand sodas, after opening them she offered one to Jessica. The brunette glared at the soda but Kara didn't seem to notice. "So I'm taking my ease at the bar, figured I could nurse one of their fake booze drinks for awhile, while I chatted up the cute Apache… And, um, just for the record, I'm not actually fluent in every language. I mean I could speak Apache but according to James I sounded like I learnt it later in life. Made a few grammatical errors that sort of thing."

"Good looking?"

Kara smiled at the brunette. "Smoking. Long black hair and soft, warm chocolate brown eyes you could just lose yourself in. Six-five-ish, maybe taller. Kind of hard to tell from my perspective. And his clothes accentuated what was underneath. I'd swear he only wore them so that people could imagine what he looked like without them on." She frowned slightly as she remembered what happened next. "Then Amara forced herself between me and the trekkie dweeb that kept trying to chat me up, or anybody really. He didn't seem overly particular who he talked at. As far as distractions go Amara would certainly do, five and half feet tall with a distance runner's build; long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes like frozen ocean, but a little too cunning and a bit conniving. Not someone I'd want to have at my back all that often."

Jessica took a swing of the soda Kara had given her with a slight grimace and then refilled the can from her bottle of cheap whiskey before taking a testing drink. She added another finger's width of whiskey to the soda before she screwed the cap back on her bottle and settled into her chair.

Kara continued talking and Jess was amazed that the girl hadn't run out of things to say, she gave short but extremely well formed descriptions of the other two girls, an Irish teenager named Theresa with reddish hair and soft emerald eyes a little taller than Amara, along with a mix race Asian girl, Roubpheap Sramol whose name meant Silhouette in English. Her dark brown eyes were hard and intelligent, filled with a cunning light and her brown hair had hung straight to the middle of her back. There was also a linguistic Professor, a Douglas Ramsey, they wanted her help to outsmart. That was the one name that just might be able to help track the group down.

When Theresa and the others realized she was Amnesia Girl, Kara had bolted like a startled rabbit, Jess had the suspicion it wouldn't take the girls long to track Kara back to Trish and given the young blonde's over protective nature toward her sister; Jess had the feeling this was going to turn into a shit storm rather quickly. "You let me track them down," Jessica said. "That judge wants you to keep your nose clean, means no going out looking for fights."

"I'm not going to stand by and let people get hurt," Kara said. She didn't know why she was the way she was, why or how she had come by her powers but she knew it wasn't so she could hide. Maybe if she set an example. Show normal people that Metas were just like them, only there were plenty of evil humans out there, never mind super powered megalomaniacs with ambitions for world domination.

Jessica took a breath as she began to realize Kara was just like Trish, only hyped up on super-do-gooder crack or something equally evil. Stopping the blonde wasn't possible, she might have it over the teenager in raw strength but Kara didn't rely solely on her strength. She could use that brain of hers and analyze a situation as quick as anyone Jess had ever seen, as well as possessing a tactical and situational awareness on par with anyone. Give the girl a few years experience, a base to operate out of, equipment and resources and Jessica didn't doubt Kara would be able to neutralize just about any threat. "Just don't go jumping into anything with both feet?" Jess asked plainly.

Kara gave the brunette a small nod as she said, "If I can help… I'm going to help."

"Going by what I've seen in the few days I've know you, I don't think you could be you and not help," Jessica said. "Now what about this vampire?"

Kara frowned slightly, it was easy to hear the doubt in Jess' voice. "I heard a woman scream," Kara began with a voice tinted with guilt and recriminations. "Maybe if I'd been faster…?" Her voice was so soft Jess almost didn't hear Kara.

"Hey," Jess cut her off. "None of that. You're not going to be able to save everyone. And sometimes…" She paused taking a breath to keep herself from blurting things out that no teenager should ever have to deal with, but like her, life hadn't really been fair to the blonde, saddling her with powers. "Sometimes people are going to die and there won't be anything you can do." That was way too much share time and Jess took a deep drink from her mixed soda.

Kara watched Jess as she drank and the brunette could almost curse herself as she could see Kara connect the dots. "So vampire?" Jess snarled frustrated with herself.

"Strong, fast… Could take a licking and keep on ticking…" Jessica frowned at the saying, she remembered it from when she was younger, a watch commercial or something, but she hadn't heard it much now that she was older. Kara didn't notice her facial expression as she continued describing the fight. The vampire had manage to land a couple of blows which Kara hadn't even felt, didn't even realize she had been hit until Jess had pointed out the bruising. "I think the woman might have been hunting vampires," Kara said as she retrieved the silver stake. "Put the pointy end inside the Vampire's heart and poof. One dusty vampire."

Jessica exhaled softly as she took the silver stake. Silver wasn't cheap. This must have cost a small fortune but if vampires truly did exist she was going to have to figure out a way to get Trish to carry something like this in case of emergencies.

"I don't think there're a lot of them," Kara said with a thoughtful expression. "I think I can sense the supernatural. Drunk stalker guy at the courthouse… I could feel him. That's how he led me up to the roof and the vampire…? I could sense him when he was about four blocks out." They had been slightly different. The vampire felt evil while the guy on the roof was just kind of pathetic.

"First thing," Jessica said deciding it was time to start her day. "Call Trish, she was worried about you…"

Kara opened her mouth but snapped it close at Jess' expression. Jess smirked until Kara said, "Whatever you want Aunt Jessica."

"Nobody likes a smartass," Jess grumbled as Kara's words reminded Jess that if Trish did manage to adopt Kara then technically she would be the girl's aunt.

"Trish likes you," Kara reminded her. Jess opened her mouth but whatever she had been going to say she decided against it. "What's number two?"

Jess grinned at the blonde. "Library card and then research while I come back here and get some much needed sleep."

"I changed my mind," Kara grumbled. "You are pure evil. Foisting the Dewey Decimal System onto the youth of America."

"You'll get over it," Jessica informed the girl.

Rough Translation using Google Translate (Try to keep them in the order they appear):

Russian: Ty deshevaya, gryaznaya doch' chechenskoy shlyukhi English: You are cheap, dirty daughter of Chechen whore

Italian: Sotto English: Under


	4. Rocks on the Road

Author: Bastille Kain

Title: Come As You Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.

Pairings:

Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.

Feedback: Is always appreciated.

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. Rocks On The Road: Jethro Tull

Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes so I'll keep this short. The next part of The Real Me should be ready for late next week. Might be a couple weeks between that and the second chapter for Crumblin' Down is ready.

Enjoy the Story,

Kain

Come as You Are

Chapter Four: Rocks on the Road

Amara checked the address written down on the piece of scrape paper. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, high end middleclass with families that were probably living slightly above their means. Finding the right house wasn't that difficult.

It was easily the biggest house on the block. Far better then she expected for someone receiving a full ride at Chesterfield. From the size of her home Amara figured Pryde could easily afford the tuition without the aid of the full scholarship.

Pryde was incredibly smart. Easily one of the smartest students at Chesterfield which was saying something when you considered how many geniuses or near geniuses attended the private academy.

Pulling up to the curb Amara set the parking brake before she turned off her Audi. As she open the door of the luxury sports car, the tall blonde snatched her designer shoulder-bag off the passenger seat and slung the leather strap over her shoulder.

Dressed for autumn in New England she was wearing what could pass for casual attire, boot cut jeans with a cream colored silk blouse with a simple floral print that spiraled from the left shoulder around her back, circled around her ribs and abs and back again before ending at her left hip concealing several of the darker buttons in the pattern. Simple open toe, platform sandals; a soft desert brown that complemented her tan, knee length jacket; not too heavy for the season, completed her outfit.

The walk up the rather long driveway was refreshing and didn't leave her anywhere near as winded as it would have six months ago. Dwayne insisted they all maintain a certain fitness level and he designed a regimen for each of them, alternating days of cardio and resistance training with Sil teaching them all how to fight. That girl was as deadly as a ninja and almost as cheerful. The only person even more morose then Sil was her boyfriend, Dwayne Taylor, but she supposed being a child and witnessing the murder of your parents might have that sort of affect on a person.

Half a dozen cars filled the driveway. There was a slightly older car, a deep blue Mazda that was off to the side. Next to it was Ford Explorer. Amara was curious what sort of person would own a white SUV. The vehicle was just about spotless, as if it had been driven from the showroom floor to where it now sat and left there. On the other side of the Explorer was a black two door Mercedes Coupe. Family cars if she didn't miss her guess.

The others were all new high end luxury models. Not one of them cost less than a hundred thousand straight off the factory floor without any bells and whistles. Amara suspected these all came fully loaded. It was obvious the Pryde family was entertaining. Each car also had a pair of guards and each guard was armed if the small little bulges to their jackets was anything to go by.

Amara took note of them, memorizing license plates and faces. It was probably innocuous, people did have a right to personal security, but there was a bit of a tickle running down her spine that said something was off.

Dwayne had dedicated himself, his company and family fortune to preventing anybody else from suffering like he had and since joining him and Sil she had begun taking his lessons to heart. While she didn't spend every waking moment obsessing over it like he did she put in plenty of hours learning and honing her new craft. Like her, the others had their own reason for being involved.

Theresa's uncle was a mutant. He was also a career criminal who had lied to her about her father for her entire life, telling her that Sean Cassidy had been killed during a mission for Interpol. The truth was that Thom Cassidy thought of Theresa as his own daughter and kidnapped her as a child. When she learnt the truth; that he had been the one to sell out her father in a jealous rage because her mother had chosen her father over him Theresa contacted Interpol and the FBI.

Robbie probably had the purest motives for joining the group; to see that the bad guys were brought to justice. He was pretty much their moral compass. His father was a hard working ADA with a distinguished career who spent too many late nights in the office. The man didn't believe in vigilante justice and in a lot of ways Robbie was just like him. He wasn't going to compromise his own morals just to catch a few bad guys, but he had powers and he wasn't just going to stand by.

There was one time, when the group had been arguing about the direction they should take. Dwayne was all for the Eye for an Eye motto but then Robbie spoke up; he asked everyone what good do we do if we become worse than the criminals we go after? Personally she thought the sentiment was idealistic, even a touch childish but in a way he was right.

Stopping at the front door Amara rang the bell. She heard a couple of voices inside and a few seconds later the door was pulled open. A tall woman in her late thirties opened the door. She was attractive with dark, almost raven black hair and light brown eyes. Her attire was immaculate and Amara knew this wasn't the hired help.

"Hello," Kitty's mother greeted her. The voice was friendly enough but for some reason it sent a chill down Amara's spine.

The blonde shoved the sensation away as she plastered a smile on her face. "Hi," she said in her best bubble blonde voice. "I go to school with Kitty…" there was a bit of a frown at the familiar form of address… "We were supposed to get together this weekend, she was going to help me with a project for my computer class but something came up with my family, very last minute that I can't get out of and since I was in the area I was hoping she was free now so that we might go over a little of it or so we could reschedule."

There was a very put upon look on the older woman's face. "Come inside," she told Amara and then closed the door behind her as she retrieved her cell phone and sent off a quick text. "Wait here. Katherine will be down shortly," she said before moving into the house proper and leaving Amara standing in the foyer as if she was no more important than a bible salesman.

Amara ignored the perceived slight. From just the few moments of interaction it was easy to tell mother and daughter had very little in common. Kitty would never treat a guest in the manner her mother had. Amara didn't think Kitty was capable of being rude to anybody.

Several voices from her left drew her attention and glanced in that direction. She couldn't make out what was being said. One of the men was a little on the pudgy side with a bit of a gut. He had short dark brown hair and if she had to lay odds he was definitely Kitty's father.

The other man must have been in his mid to late twenties. He was a few inches taller than Kitty's father, not much. An inch, maybe two and had a very slight physique, much like a ballet dancer. His black hair hung in ringlets framing an extremely attractive face. He appeared to be of Hispanic decent but possessed a classical, old world bearing, almost regal like an emperor of days lost in antiquity. He was clearly a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed instantly.

Footsteps on the stairs drew Amara's attention. She wasn't exactly amazed to see Kitty in a light summer dress with her hair done up in a messy bun. She was wearing a set of diamond studded earrings along with a simple silver necklace. Kitty might not be a swan masquerading as one of the ducklings but she was hardly unattractive. Most people would probably consider her a six or seven, maybe even a low eight.

Kitty froze for a second, but then quickened her pace down the flight of stairs until she was standing next to the taller girl. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded in a low hiss that wouldn't carry much beyond the two of them as she glanced toward her father and his companion, though a taller black man dressed in white wearing a flat wide brimmed Panama style hat had had joined them and paced toward the back window. "We have an…"

"Relax Pryde," Amara said. "I haven't outed you to anyone. I told your mother you were tutoring me on a computer project."

"Press the power button," Kitty told her. "Computer boots up. Tutoring session over."

"Ha, ha," Amara laughed. "Even I know that much." She looked toward the study again only to find dark, sultry eyes gazing at her. She could feel that same chill running down her spine only stronger and she forced herself to swallow.

Kitty scowled for a moment as she looked around. Grabbing hold of Amara's bicep Kitty pulled the blonde along. Amara frowned at the contact, she concentrated and her flesh began to heat up. Kitty pulled her hand back with a wince. "What the hell was that for?" She demanded.

"At least ask before you decide to drag me off someplace," Amara told her. "Who're your guest?" She asked taking a quick look behind her but the men had disappeared behind a closed door.

"Right," Kitty said squeezing her eyes shut. "Sorry, I completely forgot. I was just bringing you to my study…"

"You have your own study?" Amara asked mildly impressed.

"So not my idea," Kitty confided as she led Amara to a small room. She opened the door and stepped inside. "Business associates of my parents and somebody you so don't want to jump into bed with…Literally or figuratively," she warned Amara. There was an average size desk with four padded chairs around it and an equal number of monitors on the desk. "I've never actually meant any of them but there is something super-creepy about them." Kitty didn't bother adding what she had overheard during some of their meetings with her parents.

There was a mid size tower on the floor hooked into a fancy looking router and modem with five Ethernet cables coming out of the router. One went to the modem and another went to the tower while the other three cables went to the three workstations on the desk. "Mother decided that if I was going to be getting paid for tutoring people at home then I should have my own work space that wasn't my room." She closed the door behind them.

"That's kind of nice," Amara mumbled. "I suppose?"

Kitty scoffed softly before she said, "Of course they also charge me a rental fee for the space and make sure I pay my taxes on my earnings."

"That's gotta suck," Amara told her.

"It ain't great," she admitted as she sat down in the chair next to the tower. "Sorry about the temperature…"

"Its fine," Amara told her. "I'm never cold," she confided.

"Because of the…?"

Amara nodded. "I need your help with something," she said quickly.

"Is this the same something you and your Irish songbird were stalking me at school for?" Kitty asked.

"You know about Theresa?" There was the hint of concern in Amara's voice. It was obvious she was worried about her friend.

Kitty powered up her computer as she worried at her bottom lip. "Doesn't take a genius and I'm not going to say anything if that's what you're worried about. She should really try hiding that hair of hers. Combined with her sonic scream it's sort of a dead giveaway."

"I'm trying to get information on someone I meet the other day…"

"Like an address so you can start stalking them?"

"No," Amara said. "I'm pretty sure I can find out where she lives all on my own. But we kind of spooked her and I'd like to bring something of a peace offering, which is where you come in," she explained.

"I'm not sure I'm following this?" Kitty admitted.

"She has amnesia," Amara blurted out. "And I'm pretty sure she's like us."

"Like us?" Kitty asked. "A mutant?"

"She's faster than Sil."

"Faster than Sil?" Kitty repeated.

Amara nodded as she added, "I heard her speaking Apache, Latin, and Cambodian."

Kitty's eyes opened wide as the pieces fell into place. "She'd also have some sort of healing or regenerative power," she said. Amara frowned at Kitty's deduction. "You're talking about Amnesia Girl."

"She really doesn't like that name," Amara informed the smaller girl.

Amara wasn't sure if Kitty heard her or not as the brunette went on. "Found in the hallway outside Patricia Walker's penthouse apartment with her throat slashed yet she left the hospital the following day with Trish Walker. Patricia Walker is also the sister of Jessica Jones."

"Wow. Stalker much?"

"I liked the TV show," Kitty said with a shrug. "It's funny. So not like my life," she admitted.

"Isn't Jessica Jones the chick that killed that mind controlling psycho?" Amara asked her.

"Kilgrave? Yeah," Kitty told her.

"With a name like that you're just asking for it," Amara commented.

"And you want to put yourself on her radar?" Kitty asked her.

Amara ignored the comment as she looked Kitty over. "You know, if you made an effort at school every so often I'm pretty sure you'd be able to land yourself a decent boyfriend. Guthrie is into you and bonus points with him being a three sport stud."

"So not interested in getting a boyfriend Amara," Kitty said.

"Fine. Girlfriend than," Amara shifted and nearly laughed at Kitty's expression. "What? There're enough gay and bi-curious kids at Chesterfield you coming out isn't going to shock anyone Pryde. Especially with that for a last name," She shook her head before she added, "All you need is a little African in you and you'd hit just about every stereotype." She exhaled mildly. "You know, if you dressed up nice on Monday I could probably set you up with Tiffany. She's been complaining about going through a dry spell recently. You'd have to let Tiffany do all the talking because you're just likely to go all super nerd on her if you open your mouth and poor Tiffany just wouldn't ever be able to keep up with science babble, not that she's dumb or anything. She is planning on going into medicine, pediatrics if I remember correctly."

Kitty dropped her head to the table hoping that somebody would just shoot her now. Amara looked over when she heard the thumping sound. With a hint of genuine concern in her voice she asked, "Are you okay? Maybe you're right… Tiffany is at least a nine, even on a bad day. Maybe we should set our sights a little lower. There's Bobbi, ung… No. Lower, not scrap heap. I got it. My Aunt Sara…"

Kitty lifted her head with a serious frown. "I'm not going out with your Aunt Sara… That would be like way weird," Kitty told her.

"Can we take like an Ooh moment because yeah, way weird. Beside's totally straight, but she's got this friend from Pilates whose daughter, that I've meet a few times, birthday parties… After parties… That sort of thing…"

"Amara," Kitty cut her off. "Thank you, really. I'm touched that you'd actually put that much effort into finding me someone that I might like to go out with but I think I'd be more comfortable finding my own date. I think it should be something that happens naturally, not something that's prearranged or anything like that."

"Naturally," Amara murmured with a speculative look in her eyes that Kitty didn't see as she set up her key board.

She heard something in her voice though and Kitty shifted her focus for second as her system acknowledged her keyboard's connection. She wasn't sure she should trust the blonde. "Naturally," she said again putting a stronger emphasis on the word.

/ / /

The elevator came to stop with a soft chime and a second later the doors slid open. Kara stepped out of the tiny steel box and breathed a little easier. Being in the enclosed space really did not agree with her. The moment the elevator doors closed her breathing had become labored; like a boa constrictor around her chest squeezing the oxygen from her lungs, making it impossible for her to draw breathe.

She wondered what sort of childhood trauma could have caused such a strong response that she could still feel it despite her severe case of amnesia. She could understand the languages and she got the fighting skills were nothing more than muscle memory, but a phobia should require some sort of residual memory to trigger a fear response. It might be a topic to bring up with her shrink. Get an expert opinion.

Nicole stepped out of Trish's office, somehow balancing a stack of drab green folders and a couple of flimsy looking magazines in her left arm while carrying a bulky laptop and power cord with her right hand.

"Let me," Kara said as she suited her actions to her words and took the paperwork from the college intern.

Nicole graced the younger girl with a smile as she said, "Thanks."

Looking down at the folders Kara said, "Prepping for tomorrow's show?"

"Pretty much," Nicole answered as they took the short walk from Trish's personal office to a small conference room set aside for the shows staff. "We finish one show then it's on to the next. Getting confirmations, going over questions. Confirming facts," she offered a shrug.

"The actual nuts and bolts of putting together a talk show," Kara said as Nicole pushed open the door.

"Look who I found," Nicole said as Zack and Trish looked up. "Just wondering around the halls," she added entering the room and allowing Kara inside as well.

"Kara," Zack started.

"Hey," Kara said as she placed the folders on the conference tables. Looking at Trish she said, "You got my text, right?"

"I got it," Trish answered in a rather flat tone.

"Sorry," Kara said. She exhaled lightly before she launched into her explanation. "I meet some… Potential friends and kind of lost track of time. When I realized it was way late and I was closer to Jess' so I figured I could just crash there and… Malcolm is really nice –"

"It's fine Kara," Trish said. Not wanting to get into anything at work. She wasn't going to be her mother.

Kara shook her head. "It's not fine," she said. "I promised you something and then I just totally spaced."

"Are you all right?" Trish asked her.

Kara's face scrunched up into a bit of a frown as she said, "Yeah."

"Then we'll discuss this at home," Trish told her.

Kara's shoulders slumped slightly as she flounced into one of the chairs. She had really wanted to get this out of the way now, preferably with witnesses. That didn't appear to be on the table at the moment. Kicking her soft beige Citilane Crocs off, she pulled out her phone and started searching the New York education system. Linking into the network she started sending perspective portfolios to Trish's printer. Somewhere in the middle she printed out the portfolio for The Chesterfeld Academy of Academic Excellence.

/ / /

With her fingers laced together over her head and her palms pressed up toward the ceiling far overhead Sil stretched, elongating her muscles as she began to bend over backwards. Ever since her earliest memories she has always been extremely flexible, some people would say unnaturally so. She wasn't sure if it was part of her mutation, like her strength and speed. Even those could be explained away because of her enhanced training regimen.

What made her a mutant was her ability to shadow-port. She could cover vast distances in the blink of an eye by simply stepping into one shadow and then stepping out of another one. There was the possibility she could bring others with her but she had never attempted it, too afraid of what might happen if it wasn't possible. The last thing she would ever want is to condemn a person to that shadowed world.

Sil drew in a controlled breath and considered the path her life had taken. It wasn't close to anything she could have imagined a decade ago, before moving to New York from Hawaii with her brother Aaron and their mother, Miyami and meeting Andrew Chord for the first time.

Her movements were slow and controlled as she flowed in a natural rhythm. Andrew had already taken in Dwayne after the death of his parents, and while Aaron and Dwayne became fast friends. Dwayne's cause soon bled into Aaron and her brother vowed to help Dwayne find the cowardly dogs that butchered his parents.

It didn't take long before she was joining their training sessions. Because of their mutant abilities Dwayne was always at a disadvantage during their sparing sessions but it simply made him twice as determined and he trained three times harder and while he never could out fight Aaron he quickly learnt how to out think him.

Dwayne was only seventeen the first time they went on a mission together; starting off by taking out low level street corner dealers, pimps and any number of thugs. Aaron was constantly pushing Dwayne, looking for more challenging endeavors and Dwayne allowed himself to be pulled along.

Until the night everything blew up in their face, literally. Father had blamed Aaron despite Dwayne taking responsibility, telling Andrew that it was his mission his desire for revenge. Of course Father didn't listen and had kicked Aaron out, telling him he never wanted to see his face again.

Sil banished those memories. The past was the past and couldn't be changed. Unless you could somehow travel through time, but that way lay a set of dangers she wasn't at all comfortable thinking about.

Better to concentrate on the present. And their present was at a crossroads. For the past few weeks the group had been discussing the direction they should take. They could continue what they were doing, they were more than competent at taking down drug dealers and other small time criminals, or they could attempt to expand their operation, but that would require more training and specialized equipment and recruiting a few more members.

No matter what happened Dwayne already made his feelings clear. He didn't want the team to turn into another version of the Avengers who only ever seemed to pop out whenever there was some world ending catastrophe on the horizon.

Halfway through her routine she heard the heavy bay door of the small hanger begin to open. Dwayne's classic corvette pulled through the opening. He spun the car around and backed into the parking space as the door began to lower.

Sil stood up as Dwayne climbed out of his car. A slow, smoldering smile spreading across her lips at the sight the young man. Dwayne spent every day following the murder of his parents educating himself. Training, not just his body but his mind as well. At six three and about two hundred and thirty pounds he had the physique of an all pro linebacker, but for Dwayne sports were far from his mind.

"How did your meeting with Father go," she asked as he approached her.

Dwayne shrugged, a slight hitch to his shoulders as he approached her. "He doesn't care for it," he said honestly as he pulled her close and engulfed her in a tight embrace.

"Doesn't care for your plan or doesn't care for the fact that you've managed to drag me into your obsession?" She questioned him.

"Either… Both," he answered.

Sil frowned at the answer. "Despite the fact that he's the one that set your feet on this path?"

Dwayne leaned back against the work bench pulling Sil with him, her lithe form molding into him. "He was just trying to help. Give me something to focus on other than my grief," he said honestly. And he had been all those things years ago when she first meet him. He had been lost after his parent's murder, all the shrinks called it survivors' guilt and maybe it was. "There wasn't any way he could have predicted the path I would take."

"How, Zen of you," she said with a soft smile.

If he hadn't had to use the bathroom he probably would have been killed right beside his parents, possibly Sil's father as well. As it was Chord took a bullet to his shoulder when he tackled Dwayne to the floor as they were returning from the restaurant's washroom. Instead of checking to see if they were dead the gunman had fled.

Seeing the depression Dwayne was going through Sil's father on the advice of the shrinks had attempted to spark his interest in anything. It wasn't until months later, when he stepped into his first Dojo and something clicked inside him. "He couldn't have known I'd end up here," Dwayne said. "And honestly, your mother scares me way more than Chord."

A small frown tightened Sil's face as she looked up at him. "That's probably because father treats you more like a son than he has ever treated his own."

It was one of the sticky subjects between them. Not that she actually held it against him or Chord. He hadn't known about either of his children until they were already ten years old and by then Dwayne was twelve and Chord had been his foster father for seven of those years.

At first everything was fine but it didn't take long before Aaron, her fraternal twin saw the strong connection between Dwayne and Chord. At first he kept his jealousy in check, and befriended the older boy, but it soon became apparent that in his father's eyes he was never going to live up to Dwayne's standard and the anger began to fester in her brother's heart and he blamed Dwayne for the rift between him and his father.

She placed her hand along his cheek, the scar he bore from his final confrontation with Aaron. "It isn't your felt. Aaron was lost long before you or father ever came into our life."

Dwayne knew she was right. Dwayne was an accomplished martial artist and fighter. He mastered half a dozen different styles by the time he turned sixteen… It hadn't mattered. Aaron took him apart. Almost like a tiger playing with a kitten. If Sil hadn't intervened he probably would have died that night. If he ever had questions about where her loyalty lay, she had answered them that night. Still Aaron had somehow managed to embezzle close to ten million dollars from Taylor Industries before he disappeared, not that Dwayne was concerned with the money. It was the lost, the betrayal of his brother that troubled him.

Sil took his other hand and twisted away in a slow pirouette, almost as if she was dancing. "It looks like it's just us and Robbie tonight." At his look she added, "Amara's tracking down information on a potential recruit."

"Who?"

"Remember that article a few days back… Amnesia Girl?"

Dwayne shrugged lightly as he said, "The one that talk show host, Trish Walker found outside her loft. What about her?"

"We ran into her at the club last night. Might be more to her than meets the eyes," Sil answered. "She's faster and stronger than I am," she admitted.

His expression turned serious as he said, "Make sure she knows enough to be careful. Walker has some sort of connection to that P.I. The one that took out Kilgrave. I don't want you guys getting caught up with someone like that."

She smiled at him as she said, "We take down drug dealers, bank robbers, pimps, murders, and child abductors on a semi regular basis. It's nice of you to be concerned but trust us. We know what we're doing. Right now it's just the information gathering phase. Amara went to Pryde to see what sort of information she could dig out of her computer."

"And Theresa?"

"Date," Sil answered. "Said if we ran into something serious to text an SOS and she'd be there."

Dwayne nodded at the information. While he might have an obsession, he didn't want his friends to follow him down that particular rabbit hole. There were times when he wished he could be normal. To be able to look at his city and not see the violence that infested it like a limb succumbing to a septic infection.

He made his way over to the back wall and pressed his hand against a specific panel. A soft green light scanned his hand and then two other panels opened up. A holo-keypad appeared and the other had a visor. He typed in a fifteen character password and then leaned into the visor and allowed it to perform a retina scan on both eyes.

Confirming his identity an eight by sixteen foot section of the hanger floor began to lower. Once they passed the ten foot mark a matching slab slid out replacing the concrete slab they were standing on. At thirty feet the platform came to a halt and the left wall rose up ten feet opening into his hidden headquarters. It was easily twice as large as the hanger it was hidden underneath. Stepping into the chamber he spotted Jason, one of the three computer techs he had hired after Chord vetted the trio. All of them had been recruited by one intelligence agency or another and all of them had quit, when they realized that they weren't actually making any sort of difference but merely helping to maintain a status-quo.

"Hey boss," Jason said with a bit of a nod in his direction. He was in his early forties and had been a childhood computer prodigy back when he was younger. The man was thin as a rail despite his soft drink and junk food addiction. The fact he ran between four to seven miles a day might have something to do with that. He had accidently hacked Con Edison back when there still was a Con Edison which brought him to the attention of the CIA and instead of facing criminal charges he took them up on their offer, kept his nose clean, graduated high school two years early got a computer science degree and then officially went to work for them as an analyst.

Dwayne thought he heard Tchaikovsky blaring from the dangling ear bud, but he was hardly an expert on classical music. "You do know you can just call me Dwayne?" He reminded the older man.

Jason gave him a bit of a wave, or it might have been a salute as he said, "Sure thing boss."

Sil smiled softly as she laid a hand on his forearm. She had told him numerous times he was a leader and people needed to see him as such. "Anything of interest going on tonight?" She asked.

"There's been a lot of chatter about a raid. Not really sure if drugs or weapons," Jason said as he typed in a few commands. On one of the monitors a blue blip appeared and the area around it enlarged giving them a display for a section of Harlem. The blue blip was stationary for the moment. "Mickey tagged Sergent Rantelli's phone earlier, along with his burner and I've been tracking him since I got in. He's an undercover vice cop that set the sting up."

Dwayne nodded, the police were more than capable of handling a drug raid but there were rumors about a new player in the game. Somebody extremely violent and bloody and didn't take kindly to law enforcement. "Contact Theresa and Amara with the info, have them on standby. Make sure Robbie knows where to meet us."

/ / /

"This one doesn't look bad," Trish said keeping the smile from her lips setting another school portfolio down in front of Kara's seat. Like all the other private schools she had already blacked out the information concerning tuition.

The teenager was in the kitchen stirring a pan of boiling water filled with noodles. She mentioned making her own spaghetti sauce but she didn't have time tonight, she was supposed to be meeting her new friends at the club, but she wanted to do something special for Trish as a way of apologizing for last night.

Trish had been hesitant about relenting on her punishment but Kara had forgotten to exchange contact info and it would just be rude not to show up so she had given her a two hour window to go make her apologize and get back home. Kara had accepted the restrictions without complaint.

Turning towards the kitchen island Kara glance at the sheaf of paper with a frown. "An all girl prep academy?" She focused her blue eyes on Trish. "With white knee high stockings and plaid skirts? Prepping me for my life in a nunnery?"

"If you weren't interested in going there why put it on the list?" Trish asked as Kara turned back to the stove. She stirred the pasta for a few seconds before turning the fire off. She ignored the potholders and picked up the pot filled with scalding hot water without the slightest hint of discomfort and carried it over to the colander sitting in the sink basin and dumped the contents of the pot into it.

Kara offered her a shrug as she turned slightly and placed the pot back on the stove. "Really wasn't paying that much attention. It was more of a click and print operation," she told Trish as she turned back. Lifting the colander she gave it a slight shake to shift the elbows around a bit. Putting the colander back down she went back to the stove and stirred the store bought sauce as she waited for it to begin simmering. "Public school is always an option. You don't need to spend huge amounts of money on me."

"Providing you with a top of the line education isn't going to leave me in a poor house," she said as Kara turned off the burner under the sauce. "According to Dr. Holirveind we really should do our best to tailor your curriculum to your specific needs." Kara dumped the pasta into a bowl and then poured the sauce over it. Kara set the dining area, placing the pasta, a small bread tray that was holding few pieces of thick artesian bread and a pair of salads she had made earlier out on the kitchen island before she retrieved a pair of plates and two sets of silverware along with utensils for serving the pasta. "He says there are several classes you can test out of right now, like with the languages. Only in a public school testing out of subjects would be harder, if not impossible."

Kara waited for Trish to fill her plate with what she wanted then helped herself to the rest. As she was filling her plate she said, "I'm surprised you're not suggesting home schooling."

"And have everyone think you belong to one of those freaky religious cults?" Trish murmured as she maneuvered some of the pasta onto her fork. Kara laughed as she shoveled a fork full of elbows into her mouth. "Find a few schools that you think will be a good fit for you and we'll start scheduling interviews for next week. Hopefully we'll get you registered and you won't miss too much time. It sucks playing catch up," she noted sagely just before taking another forkful of her pasta.

/ / /

Kara folded her legs under her as she sat Indian style on the roof of the warehouse across from Sotto Twenty-One waiting for the three teenagers to return. It was something of a long shot but it wasn't like she had a lot of options. Amara mentioned her Uncle owned the club and Kara suspected the tall blonde and her friends spent a lot of their nights here.

Closing her eyes Kara exhaled slightly and stretched out her senses. Since this morning she had been able to refine her control over this aspect of her powers. Concentrating on the familiar fragrances she remembered from her brief encounter with Amara and her friends yesterday, Kara was a little surprised that she could not only recall their scents; but the pace of their heartbeats, the sound of their voices, the rhythm of their walks.

Focusing inward she recalled each moment, every memory she has had since waking up. She shuddered as she drew in a ragged breath. It wasn't just Amara and her friends but everyone she has come in contact with. From Trish and Jess to the nurses in the O.R. when she first woke up… The thugs in the abandoned building, the girl they snatched off the street, or her server at the Bistro… Claire. She opened her eyes and murmured, "Super freaky."

She ran her hands through her hair. "Still not the weirdest thing in your life," she said to no one. Standing up she looked over the building's ledge and wondered just what she was. Why was she able to do the things she could? What made her special? Was she chosen for some reason and why steal her memories?

The stranger from the courthouse, a supernatural being if her assumption concerning certain aspects of how her powers worked were correct and she was somehow able to sense them. He felt guilt about… Was it her? Why? He didn't tell her much but he hinted at quite a lot.

He sounded responsible for her situation. That he put her here, but did so in order to protect her from beings powerful enough they could have wiped her from existence itself, hiding the truth from her so she couldn't be found by them. He made decisions about her life.

Did he ask her, give her a choice or did he just make a unilateral decision concerning her life and do as he thought best. She wasn't sure if she wanted to thank him or run him through with a sharp object. Maybe a little bit of both.

Kara looked up the street as a familiar voice caught her ears. She focused her senses and Theresa seemed to leap forward as her vision sort of zoomed in on her. The fiery redhead was just as tiny as she remembered from the night before; which meant she had about three to four inches on her. Her black heels added another three inches while her black leather pants were going to have to be peeled off her. Of course that just might have been her intent. They hugged her hips and legs like a second skin and informed everyone that cared to notice she had gone commando. Her crop top left the better part of her midriff bare for the world to check out. Not that it was a bad midriff, sleek and tone, like a dancer.

Theresa had her arm wrapped around the waist of a young man with short cropped blonde hair. He was tall and lanky with serious blue eyes. The lilt of his voice told Kara he was from some rural backwoods and not a native New Yorker. He was dressed more for a farm then a club, sturdy boots and with a pair of slightly faded, work worn jeans with a few holes, the all natural kind and not one of those hundred and fifty dollar designer distressed jeans. His black tank was tucked into his waistband and was covered by a corduroy button down shirt that hung open.

They were talking quietly with each other, joking and flirting and just enjoying each other's company. Kara heard Theresa call him Sam, a junior at her school and some sort of high school football stud.

Kara's nostril's flared as she caught an unusual odor from Theresa. She tried to place the fragrant scent but for a brief moment it eluded her. Her cheeks colored suddenly as she finally realized exactly what she smelled and then suppressed her urge to gag or shove a red hot poker up her nostrils. "That's so not need to know information," she mumbled as she reeled in her sense of smell.

Her cell rang and Theresa cursed softly as she pulled the phone from her back pocket. "I have to take this," she apologized to Sam.

He nodded as he said, "Not a problem."

Theresa took a step or two away as she answered her phone and pressed it to her ear. "This had better be good," she whispered into the phone.

"One of Chord's sources made contact," an unknown voice said, male and not much older than Sam or Theresa if she had to guess. "There's a chance things go pear-shape tonight so it's an all hands on deck sort of thing."

"Did you spend the afternoon binge watching Strike Back?" Theresa asked him. "What does pear-shape even mean?"

"T," the voice said.

"Text me the info…"

"You need transport?"

Theresa scoffed at the question. "I've got it covered. Just make sure Taylor knows if this turns into an all night stakeout I am not going to be happy and an unhap…" The line went dead. "Son of a bitch," she fumed quietly. She slipped her phone back into her pocket as she turned toward Sam. "I am so sorry Sam," she said pressing herself close to him. "That was 'Mara. She's having a really crappy night."

"Female issues?" Sam inquired sounding almost diplomatic. He shrugged at her inquiring look. "I've got an entire gaggle of little sisters who just love to try and get me flustered with their female issues," he explained.

Theresa smiled softly. "Must be nice, having a bunch of brothers and sisters," she almost sounded wistful.

"It's got its moments," Sam acknowledged as he rested his forearms over her shoulder. "Mostly they're as annoying as a nest full of gnats."

"Personally I think 'Mara just being a jealous bitch," Theresa confided to him. "I am her BF, so…" She shrugged.

Quickly Sam leaned down and captured her lips. It was quick and tender. He pulled back and she moved in a little closer resting her head against his chest. "I'm really glad we decided to do this," she said.

"So ain't I," he answered. "But you got a friend in crisis… Real or imaginary," he reminded her.

"Tomorrow than?" She asked stepping back out of his embrace as her gentle hands slid down his long, well toned arms. She held onto his hands.

"Tomorrow," he agreed. Reluctantly she let go of his hands, a small triumphant smile playing at her lips as she turned away.

Kara moved quickly as she readjusted her vision. She raced the length of the roof and leapt the open space to the next building. She landed with a frown having cleared the space much easier than the night before. Had she gotten stronger overnight or was she becoming more accustomed to her strength?

It was a question for later. Right now she had an objective she needed to focus on. She checked the street, locating Theresa with ease. Only the redhead had ducked down a poorly lit alley, not that the poor lighting hindered her in the least.

Kara frowned for a moment before she winced as an ultra low frequency sound wave reached her sensitive ears. She shoved aside the discomfort and concentrated on the source of the sound. A moment later Theresa rocketed up and out of the alley propelled by the sonic waves she was generating. A dark green domino mask covered her eyes but left the rest of her face exposed and she had pulled her hair back into a simply ponytail. Some sort of thin nylon, or an artificial silk substance extended from her wrist to hips acting as a membrane. Kara assumed it was an aid to stabilize her flight, or to allow her to glide for short distance to avoid unnecessary strain on her vocal chords.

With a slight frown Kara turned and headed back toward home. Theresa possessed powers that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Did that mean Amara and Sil did as well? It would be kind of stupid to use Amara as the reason to skip out of a date if she wasn't at least in the know and willing to cover on the spur of the moment.

/ / /

"Theresa was on a date," Kara told Trish as the older woman got ready for bed. She was leaning against the wall giving her some privacy as she changed into her night clothes. Keeping things from Trish felt wrong, as if someone had taken a red hot poker and were burning a hole straight through her guts. Worse, that someone was wearing her face. "Didn't really feel like intruding or playing fifth wheel. Maybe if I knew them better…?" She finished with an unseen shrug.

Trish stepped out of her room and wrapped her arm around Kara's thin shoulders and pulled her along into the small pallor dining room. She maneuvered her onto the couch. She grabbed the remote and turned the television on. A middle age anchor appeared on the screen, gray was just beginning to fleck his once dark hair and he looked about ten pounds heavier than he did just a couple of years ago. She had never been one to channel surf but she suspected Kara would not much appreciate being forced to watch the news. "Anything specific you want to watch?" She inquired.

Kara arched an expressive eyebrow as she said, "Seriously?" Trish tried to keep the remote away from Kara but the teenager was far too fast. Her hand had barely moved but the remote was already gone.

"We need to come up with ground rules," Trish said in something of a huff.

Kara smiled at Trish as she began flipping through the channels. "You mean like no…?" Kara began but she suddenly fell silent as she stood up and looked out onto the terrace. Trish's gaze followed Kara's as a flock of pigeons and other birds burst into the air.

"What is…?" She started but Kara moved with a sudden swiftness and pulled her off the sofa and forced her under the small hardwood dining table.

"Stay there," Kara ordered a moment before Trish felt a deep rumbling and the building… The entire city started to shake. Somehow Kara managed to maintain her balance even during the worst of the shaking. It was as if she was somehow riding out a wave.

Kara closed her eyes as a bit of something seemed break loose inside her head. A tiny little piece of a fragment. Night time in the woods, it was warm and the trees were shaking as the ground itself grumbled and heaved in the darkness. Sometime later… The same night, a different one she didn't know. Dark, cold. Nothing.

The shaking stopped and Kara remained perfectly still. Her eyes were still shut tight. "It's safe," she finally said. Her voice was distant as if she were somewhere far away.

"How did you know?" Trish asked as she crawled out from under the table. Even she could hear the car alarms and sirens. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Kara must be hearing.

Kara finally opened her eyes as she said, "The animals started going crazy and then… I don't know? It's like I could feel this pressure that needed to be released." Turning slightly Kara caught Trish's eyes almost pleading with her as she said, "I can hear them. Trapped, scared…"

Trish exhaled as she looked up toward the ceiling and the havens beyond. Kara would stay if she told her to but Trish didn't think she could do that to her. It just might destroy a little piece of the young girl. "Be careful out there Kara. Don't do anything… Foolish." She had almost said stupid but managed to change the word at the last moment.

Kara beamed like a child who just learnt that Santa was going to pay them a special visit because she had been so good. Without a moment's hesitation Kara rushed toward the balcony and leapt over the edge spreading her arms out wide.

Rushing forward Trish called out, "And find something to cover your face!"


End file.
